Believe In Me
by MyStateOfMind
Summary: AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like.
1. Direction to Perfection

_**Title: **Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Currently? Just Smitchie. But watch this space, because in the future I might add some others. Any in particular that people would like to see?_

_**Authors Note: **__So hey! I'm Charli, I'm 16 years old and I live in London, England. This is my first venture into Camp Rock fiction (plus my first posting on this site), but I wanted to get opinions from other people. Obviously it's an AU story, so Mitchie has never met Shane and vice versa. Shane and Mitchie will end up together, because I love them together, but any other pairings are open to discussion so if you want to make any suggestions that'd be awesome. And I'd just like to get people's comments in general. I think Mitchie is slightly out of character in this chapter, but I'm hoping that I can make that different in the next chapter. Um... and I'm going to alternate points of view in each chapter. This one will be Mitchie, the next one will be Shane, and then it'll go back to Mitchie. And I think that's all I had to say! So I hope you like this!_

_**Music: **__All These Things That I've Done - The Killers_

"_**And my affection, well it comes and goes, I need direction to perfection, no, no, no, no" **_

"_I've got soul but I'm not a soldier," _I sung quietly to myself, brushing my hair slowly and staring myself down in the mirror. "_I've got soul but I'm not a soldier..."_

I stopped, looking at my reflection silently for a few more seconds before placing the brush back on the dressing table and turning away from myself. It wasn't that I was particularly ugly and couldn't stand to look at myself... it was the fact that I wasn't. I was average. Plain Jane. And sometimes that's just not who you want to be. It's not who I want to be anyway. But you can't just change yourself. It's not as easy as it can appear.

But then again, I thought as I got up off my chair and walked over to the full-length mirror that hung on the wall beside my closet, what was? Nothing is ever as easy as it looks.

I deliberately avoided looking at my face when I reached the mirror. Instead, I focussed on the outfit that I'd thrown together. And when I say thrown together, I mean thought about quite a bit and then tried to make it look like I had just pulled anything out of my closet. Black tights, black shorts and a bright orange dress-top that wasn't really long enough to not wear anything underneath it. Bringing my gaze up to my face, I spent a few seconds examining the makeup that I'd just completed, and my hair which was almost perfectly straight. It would do. It wasn't like I had amazing plans anyway. Just a night out with Caitlin.

"Mitchie! Caitlin's here!"

As if on cue, Mom's voice rung out in the house, announcing that my best friend had arrived. I tore my gaze away from the mirror, grabbed my cell phone and my purse and slipped on my orange Converse. I'd tie the laces up when I was downstairs. Then I turned out my bedroom light and closed the door as I raced down to greet Cait.

She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her curly hair bobbing up and down as she watched me jump down each step. "Well aren't we colorful?"

I rolled my eyes at the sarcastic greeting, taking in her green jeans and neon paint-spattered t-shirt. "Hey to you too Caitlin. I'm fine, thank you for asking. How are you?"

"I'm good," she grinned and then turned to my mom. "We'll be back for midnight, Mrs. T."

Mom smiled at me and nodded. Honestly they weren't too strict with curfews. Mainly because I usually didn't have anywhere to go, so they didn't feel the need to impose a certain time. I was a good girl. Came home before midnight, didn't feel the need to drink to have a good time... seriously, my parents were lucky that they got this 17-year-old girl. I didn't give them too much grief.

"Have fun girls," she commented as Caitlin opened the door and practically pushed me out of it.

"Bye M - " I was cut off by my friend closing the door behind her, creating a wall between me and my mother. Stopping to tie my shoelaces before I fell over them, I wrinkled my nose at my friend. "What is the hurry?"

Caitlin just shrugged and opened up her car door, sliding in the driver's seat and looking back at me with a frustrated expression written across her features. "God Mitchie. Can you tie your shoelaces any slower?"

"Possibly." I looked up at her, halting the process for a few seconds. "Want me to try?"

"No. Come on Mitchie!"

I finished tying both laces and stood up, walking around to the passenger seat and pulling open the door. "What are these amazing plans that you can't bear to miss one second of?"

"I said that I'd show you when we get there."

"And I said that that was a stupid idea."

"And I said that I don't care whether you think it's stupid." She started the car and reversed out of the drive, glaring at me only slightly when I put my feet up on the dashboard.

"And I said that that isn't the attitude to have, is it?"

"And I say that this whole re-living the conversation we had earlier today is stupid."

"I agree," I grinned at her, not taking my feet from their position on the dashboard of the car. She treasured this car with every inch of her being and I knew that she wasn't exactly thrilled by the fact that I currently had my Converse all over it. But she also knew that until she said anything, I wasn't about to sit properly. "But I still want to know where we're going."

Caitlin stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to look at me, an eyebrow raised. "Mitchie. You'll find out when we get there." A few seconds later and the red glow had moved down to green, and she started moving again. "And take your feet from off my car. Thank you."

Slowly, I put my feet back to where most people have them while sitting in a car, and looked out of the window. It was a typical Saturday night in Cohasset, Massachusetts. School was over for the week, teenagers were out partying and having a good time... though most of them knew what they were doing. I, however, was still in the dark about my Saturday night plans.

I pressed the button to put down the window, letting in some of the cool, fall air. I loved the fall. The leaves, the sudden change from hot summers to cold winters, the slightly confusing transition period between summer barbecues and Christmas parties. It was all so much like me. Which is weird to think, but if I were a season, I'd definitely be fall. Summer is too vibrant. And okay, I can be vibrant sometimes, but not all the time. Not like summers are. And winters... they're too cold. They don't care what anyone else thinks and are just themselves; cold and almost lifeless. Spring is refreshing. People who are like spring are... they're confident and bursting with new ideas and life. I'm autumn. Quiet. Thoughtful. Blending into the background. But at the same time... I feel like I always have more to say than people think.

"Can you believe it? I can't! This is like, the most exciting thing to happen in Cohasset since like... ever! Connect 3!" I overheard a snatch of conversation between two girls about my age from outside and my head snapped to look at Caitlin.

"You haven't..."

She glanced at me, her nose wrinkled. "I haven't what?"

"Connect 3? In Cohasset? You with your oh-so-secretive plans for the one Saturday night that they're here? Coincidence? I think not," I said, folding my arms across my chest. Truthfully, despite being adamant that I hated Connect 3 and their excuse for rock music all these years, I held a slight soft spot for them. They were still on my iPod (and I did still listen to them, even though I told Cait that they were only on there because I couldn't be bothered to take them off). And I had had a huge poster of them in my room up until I decided that I had to redecorate. But that did not mean that I wanted to go and see them!

She sighed and looked over at me again, before flicking her eyes back to the road. "Mitchie..."

"Ugh." I replied simply, putting my feet back up on her dashboard and rolling my eyes. The reason I hated Connect 3 so much? The fact that they had no idea that they were living out the dream. A dream that so many young people would _kill _to live out. That Shane Grey and his temper tantrums on video sets and photoshoots... didn't he realise that there were people out there - people like _me_ - who would do absolutely anything to be doing what he did? And he didn't even care.

"Come on Mitch. It was too good to pass up. Front row seats! Front row! My dad got them through work. And I knew that you wouldn't come if I told you straight out, so..."

I didn't answer her. Front row? Really? That close? How amazing would that be?

No. Not amazing. Not amazing at all. Hate.

"And I know that you have a slight soft spot for them, because otherwise why would you have them on your iPod? Sure, you can claim that you can't be bothered to remove them, but just imagine. Those songs. Live. And Shane Grey jumping around the stage."

If he didn't cancel the concert before they could even sing, I resisted the urge to add.

"Please? Please come inside with me? And we can jump around and squeal like crazy preteens again, and then come tomorrow we can forget that we ever went and pretend that we spent Saturday night in, watching The O.C reruns and eating chips." Caitlin's voice was edging on begging now, and I knew that it wouldn't be long before I caved.

We were getting closer to where the concert was going to be held, I could tell. Just the presence of more people suddenly milling around us, most of them wearing t-shirts and holding banners that were decorated with 'will you marry me?' in varying handwriting.

"Mitchie?" She'd come so far, I knew she wasn't going to let me stop her from going to the concert. And she wouldn't go without me, which meant one thing. I was going with her. It was as simple as that really.

I rolled my eyes and groaned, bringing my feet down off the dashboard with a crash as she pulled into a miraculously empty parking space (although maybe not, seeing as the majority of people here were probably not old enough to drive yet...). "Fine!" I undid my seatbelt and flung open the car door, trying to escape the vehicle before she gave me that victorious laugh that I knew so well. I didn't manage it. Closing the door behind me, I leant up against the car and folded my arms again, trying to look like this was the last place on Earth that I wanted to be.

"Thank you Mitchie!" she cried as she got out of the car and shut the door behind her. Caitlin bounded around to stand next to me and then pouted. "Come on, you can smile. I know you're a little more excited than you're letting on."

I hate it when she's right. Really, I do. Because it was kind of cool that Caitlin's dad had gotten us front row seats to a show that would probably never be played in Cohasset again. Connect 3 never came to small towns like ours. And we had tickets the one time that they did? Slightly awesome.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed my hair out of my eyes and then put on a small smile. Which was really hard to do, seeing as I wanted to grin at her. "Okay. Fine. Want me to be a screaming fangirl?"

She looked at me, her eyebrows raised as though waiting for me to answer her question for her.

I sighed, stepping away from the car and a little bit closer to a group of people who were standing at the side of the street. Some of them were in Connect 3 t-shirts, and there were these two guys in dark glasses who seemed to be engrossed in conversation. My movement seemed to catch the eye of one of them though.

"Seriously, I will act as though I belong here if you want me to," I said to her.

"That would be awesome," Cait grinned, knowing what I was about to do, because she knew me too well.

Shaking my hair out of my eyes, I put on a totally excited expression and jumped up and down a few times before squealing. "OH MY GOSH CAITLIN I CANNOT BELIEVE YOUR DAD GOT US FRONT ROW TICKETS TO CONNECT 3! DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT I THINK SHANE GREY IS? AND THEY'RE HERE, IN COHASSET! I THINK I'M HYPERVENTILATING. AHHHHHHH!" Stopping deadpan, I looked back at Caitlin who was pretty much in hysterics, and had been ever since the squealing commenced. "Was that excited enough?"

"Oh, Mitchie. I love you, but you're totally insane." Caitlin laughed at me, leaving the car and taking my arm. "We're going. And we're having fun. And you're going to leave this concert totally glad that you went."

I shook my head. "No I won't."

"Hey. Never say never. You might leave thinking Shane Grey is the hottest thing to walk the Earth," my best friend giggled, as though this were the stupidest thing she'd ever heard.

And honestly? As she pulled me into the crowd of fans that were already hyperventilating (and seriously, not just pretending like I was) and then into the hall and then all the way down to our front row seats, I think it was. The stupidest thing ever.

--

The final chord blasted out of the speakers, each of the three boys (or men, seeing as I have no idea how old they are anymore) headbanging in time with the music. Then Shane ran up to the mic that he'd left standing in the middle and sent out a thank you. "Thank you guys! You've been awesome."

Ugh. I half want to ask him where he's just performed. I bet he'd have no idea. Jerk.

Which seems a bit harsh, seeing as I've never met him. And he just spent the last hour performing (because the word 'rocking' wouldn't really fit, in my own personal opinion) to fans that obviously worship the ground he walks on. But he just doesn't appreciate it.

Or if he does, he sure doesn't show it.

He scanned the audience, as though looking for someone, and for a few seconds I could swear that his gaze locked with mine. Not that I was looking at him or anything. And the only reason I noticed was obviously because I was watching to see if he proved himself to be any more of a jerk than I already thought he was.

"Thank you Cohasset! It's been amazing!" Nate announced to the screaming fans and then they were gone.

The lights went up after a few minutes of nothing but eardrum shattering screaming, and when it became clear that nothing else was going to happen, people began filing out. Both Caitlin and I had been to enough concerts to know that you were probably better waiting until the crowds had cleared, and so we sat back down in our seats, waiting for everyone to leave.

"Mitchie!" Caitlin cried as the screaming subsided and the noise level went down to excited chattering. "Did you see them?"

I looked sideways at her. "See who? Connect 3? What, they were here? I must have missed them. Darn it."

"No!" She pushed me, rolling her eyes at me. "Shane Grey totally looked at you at the end. Do you know him? Have you met them and not told me?"

I didn't even bother dignifying this with a response. She was obviously still high on concert vibes and had caught the Connect 3 bug that had been all around the hall. Had I met Connect 3? No. Would I have told her if I had? Yes.

"Okay. Sorry. Stupid question. But he totally checked you out Mitchie!"

I turned to look behind us to see how empty the hall was. "No he didn't."

"Oh, he so did."

Deciding that it was empty enough to have missed the initial craze outside, I stood up and looked around for my purse. "He didn't. Ugh!" My purse was lying open, all of its contents scattered around the place I'd been sitting. Or standing, for most of the concert. "Damn it. Nobody better have stood on my cell phone Cait."

"He checked you out!"

I ignored her, picking up as many of the random bits of paper that I could find (all of which contained little scraps of songs that I'd gotten the inspiration for at random moments where I hadn't had my trusty songbook) and then grabbing my keys, my phone and some coins that had fallen out too. Satisfied that I'd gotten everything, I stood back up to find Caitlin looking at me, her hand on her hip and a 'I'm-so-right' look on her face.

"Mitchie."

"Caitlin." I replied, edging out of the row past her and beginning to walk up the aisle to get to the door.

"You know I'm right about this."

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that night and then turned to my best friend, allowing the secret Connect 3 fan inside of me to break out for a second in a grin. "He didn't check me out Caitlin. But they were pretty good live..."

She laughed as she followed me up through the hall and out of the door that we'd entered. "Michaela Marie Torres, you have officially been converted into a crazed Connect 3 fan!"

"LIKE, OHMIGOD!" I screamed, cutting into the otherwise silent hall, seeing as everyone else had left while I was collecting my things. "I LOVE YOU SHANE GREY!"

Caitlin laughed and hooked arms with me as we pushed open the door to officially leave the stage area. "I'm just going to forget you ever said that."

"That would be much appreciated," I laughed along with her.

The door swung shut behind us.


	2. One Man Show

_**Title: **__Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie & possibly Naitlyn!_

_**Authors Note: **__And amazingly, I'm back so soon with a chapter. This one isn't perfect, but I wanted to give you an insight into the life of Shane before I could advance on the story any. And this is where Shane sees Mitchie, so there's a little bit of that in this one. Enjoy! I'll hopefully have another chapter with you soon, providing that you like and review this one! I loved the reviews I got for the last chapter (made me smile from ear to ear!) so I hope I'm still as good after you finish this one! I've tried to spell everything the American way, but if I've missed something, I'm sorry. I'm so used to putting 'u' in colour and favourite._

_**Music: **__One Man Show - Jonas Brothers_

_**"I'm a one man show, I don't need no one, I'll be fine alone, oh yeah"**_

"Where are we?" I asked, looking out of the window at the endless rows of houses we were passing. This was stupid. I had grown up in a suburb like this, wanting to get out of the repetitiveness that it gave. And now I was back in a similar area, when I could be in New York City, or Los Angeles or some other way more exciting place. Where things happened.

This had not been my idea. It had been the idea of our record label; in order to get Shane to remember what it was like when he was first starting out, let's go on an 'Up Close and Personal' tour. Go to the small towns that nobody ever visits, in order to feel 'closer' to the fans. Apparently it was supposed to remind me of where I'd come from. I remember where I came from just fine thanks, without having to visit countless places that all look the same after a while. I came from a small suburb, a guy who loved music and writing songs. And now I'm not that guy. I don't see what this is supposed to do for me.

"Cohasset, Massachusetts." Nate didn't even look up whilst replying, just carried on updating the blog that he'd decided to write on tour. Our manager had loved that one. Getting closer to the fans? Wasn't Nate the saint? Why couldn't we all be like Nate?

"Cohasset, Massachusetts," I repeated, watching the people walking down the sidewalk blur in front of my eyes. Endless faces of people that I'd never meet again. Why bother looking too hard at any of them? Why bother getting to know any of them? They didn't know me. They claimed to. Sure, they knew my favorite color and could probably recite every single interview I'd ever been made to give. Give them a quiz on the trivial things in my life and they'd ace it. But none of them knew me. Not really. So why should I know them?

I noticed the bus slowing down and so it wasn't much of a surprise when Jason bounded through to where we were, grinning. "We're here!"

Nate clicked a few things on the screen and then closed his laptop, standing up as we drew to a complete stop. "Sound check. Then concert. And then we have a day off until we have to be in Greenwich, Connecticut."

I knew that this update was more for my benefit than randomly just announcing our plans. He was frustrated with me for never listening and being the jerk that I was so used to being, and he wanted to make sure that I could tell this. Hence him showing me up. He knew where we were and what we were doing. What was my excuse? My excuse was that I hated this life now. I'd had enough of being told what to do and not getting creative license to write my own music and say what I wanted to say in interviews. So I didn't care anymore.

"Okay! Let's go!" Jason grinned and I heard him pushing back the door to the bus and jumping down onto terra firma. Presumably Nate followed him, because when I turned away from staring at the sidewalk I was alone in the bus. Nothing new there. Nothing new at all.

--

Nate tapped the microphone one last time before nodding. "That's it, I think."

Sighing with relief, I jumped down from the stage in one swift movement and made my way to the little room that they'd set up as the backstage area. Nobody spoke to me, or asked me where I was going, I was just left to it. Because they'd heard about me and knew that I was Shane Grey. And that it would be more than their job's worth to annoy me.

It hadn't been what I'd wanted, I swear. I hadn't wanted this reputation. It had just happened to me. I'd been told what to do one too many times, and had snapped. And then snapped again. And again. And again. And then Hot Tunes heard about it, and suddenly what do you know? Everyone in the world thinks I'm a jerk. Might as well live up to that expectation. I'm not sure I could change to be anyone else now anyway.

Sinking down into one of the couches that they'd put in the dressing room that obviously hadn't been home to many big names in the past, I closed my eyes. I didn't know what I wanted anymore. When other people think that you have everything, how do you know what you're missing?

"We're going outside, dude."

I opened my eyes to find Nate standing over me, his hands on his hips and a blank expression on his face. I couldn't tell whether it was a look of sympathy or a look of anger, which probably isn't good. Those emotions are incredibly different.

He obviously expected me to put up some sort of argument, so when I got up and gestured for him to lead on, a look of surprise crossed his face. A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall told me that we had about an hour before the concert would start, and there would probably be people milling around outside already. So grabbing two pairs of sunglasses, I handed one to him and followed him out the back door.

The cold air hit me immediately. Fall weather. I missed the seasons when I was over in California. Especially fall. Summer and winter are too obvious. Too in your face. And spring is so perfect. Spring is planned and everything is happening in perfect sync. Fall is so raw and almost unrehearsed. Out of all the seasons, fall is definitely my favorite. I bet not many people would know that about me.

"Shane..." Nate started, having slipped the glasses on. I followed suit, putting the shades over my eyes so that some of my face was disguised. There weren't all that many people around here anyway - I could see where the fans had gathered ahead - so we'd probably get away with it.

"Nate..." I replied, sure that this was going to be another one of our conversations that ended up being taken the wrong way by one of us. I honestly don't know what happened to me and Nate. Or me and Jason, come to think of it. They used to feel as frustrated as I did that the record label was running every aspect of our lives. They still do; I can tell that much from the way they act sometimes. But I handled in a different way. And now it's like we're miles apart, when really we're standing next to each other.

"Are you okay?" He asked, after a minute of silence, obviously while he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't sound threatening.

I laughed shortly at him, nodding. "Never better. Thanks for asking. What about you?"

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but smile a little. "You know that that's not what I meant. This tour... you're still..."

"A jerk?" I offered. That was what everyone said anyway. No point in pretending that they didn't.

He shook his head as though that thought weren't what was going through his head. Even though it was. It must have been. "Shane, I'm as annoyed as you are. Not about this tour, because I love that we're seeing fans that might not get to see us otherwise. I like that these kids came from places where we grew up and we get to connect with them. But the fact that we're being moulded into people that we aren't..."

"Nate. I've shown how I feel. You might think that talking things through will solve everything but I don't. It won't."

My attention was drawn to a car pulling into a space by the sidewalk just in front of us, but then Nate pulled my gaze back to him and to focus on what he was saying.

"Shane, that isn't the point."

"Well what is the point then? This is not the life I wanted. But we're not able to get out of it. And you and Jason might be the model band members, being able to pretend that everything is super fabulous, but I can't do that. And if showing my anger gets me labelled a jerk, then let that happen. I don't care."

The car door slammed as a girl who looked just younger than me got out and painted an annoyed expression on her face. Her friend got out the other side and exclaimed a thank you. Wait, why was I interested in what they were doing?

"Fine. Fine. Just keep doing what you're doing. I'm sure you'll get what you want soon enough, because any more temper tantrums and we'll be out anyway." Nate wasn't shouting because that would definitely attract attention, but he wasn't happy. I could tell that much.

I didn't reply. The girl was walking away from the car, engrossed in conversation with her friend, who was close to laughing. I could hear her from where we were standing.

"Seriously, I will act as though I belong here if you want me to."

"That would be awesome."

Her next actions surprised me more than anything. "OH MY GOSH CAITLIN I CANNOT BELIEVE YOUR DAD GOT US FRONT ROW TICKETS TO CONNECT 3! DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT I THINK SHANE GREY IS? AND THEY'RE HERE, IN COHASSET! I THINK I'M HYPERVENTILATING. AHHHHHHH!"

I watched as she jumped up and down, and then bit back a smile as she suddenly stopped, folding her arms. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see the expression on her face, but I figured that it wouldn't be too amused. Her friend, Caitlin I think she said, was cracking up though.

I have no idea what it was, but the cynicism of this girl made me feel something. Everyone I've met at concerts has been obsessed with us, out of breath at the thought of being there, wearing t-shirts emblazoned with our faces and names... this girl wasn't. It was different. In a good way.

"Oh, Mitchie. I love you, but you're totally insane."

Mitchie. It suited her. Sure, I didn't know anything about her apart from the fact that she wasn't the biggest Connect 3 fan, and the fact that she was wearing black and orange. But it did.

"Shane?" Nate snapped his fingers in front of my face, and only then did I realise that I'd been watching Mitchie and her friend walk away, into the crowd of fans that had assembled to get into the concert hall.

"What?" I asked, looking back at him.

He looked at Mitchie's retreating back and then back at me, before sighing. "We need to go and get ready. Another town, another concert."

With that, he walked past me and back into the door that we'd left open. I glanced at the gathering of fans up ahead, but Mitchie had already been swallowed up by them. And so with a sigh, I turned around and made my way back into the dressing room.

Another town, another concert.

--

"Thank you guys! You've been awesome!"

I yelled, as I usually do at the end of every concert. I used to mean it. Now I rarely notice. It doesn't matter to me anymore. I'm usually always performing, knowing that those fans out there are being told that they're seeing the real us. Our record label are telling them that they're seeing the real us. They're not. This isn't us. Usually my mind is plagued by this thought after every concert.

Not today.

Just before I went on stage for the encore I remembered that Mitchie had yelled something about front row seats. And the whole final three songs had been slightly clouded with trying to find an opportunity to spot her. Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn't. In a few days I might have forgotten all about her. She'd be just another person who showed up at one of our concerts.

And finally here it was. The last chance I had to try and see her face. Before I'd only really noticed the back of her head. And her voice. For some reason I wanted to see her face.

Scanning the people in front of me - there were hundreds of them, all screaming my name - I focussed on the front row. Little girl, little girl, bored mom who had obviously been dragged here... there she was. Orange top, black shorts and tights. Her brown hair was still straight, but slightly messier than it had been outside. She was right there. I was looking right at her.

And she was looking back.

Just as an expression of confusion crossed her face, Nate shouted out his final goodbye, and the lights went out. Darkness. When they went back up again, we had to be offstage. I didn't move my gaze from where I knew her eyes were for a few seconds. It was only when I felt someone pulling me from the stage that I moved. Back into the wings. Off the stage and away from everybody out there. Including Mitchie.

Shaking my head, I pushed past everyone who was congratulating us for another great show, and back into the dressing room. I'd never see her again.

Not that I cared.

I mean, I'm Shane Grey. Of course I don't care.

I don't care.

"Sh - " Nate began to say my name as he walked into the room, but I didn't even bother looking up this time. Just got up and left the room, shouting over my shoulder.

"I'm going out for a walk."


	3. Tell Me Your Name

_**Title: **Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s: **Smitchie & possibly Naitlin!_

_**Authors Note: **It's not many compared to other stories, but the 12 reviews I have make me smile! It's the nice things that you guys have said that is making me want to keep writing this, and I keep getting more and more ideas for future chapters, but obviously I can't get to those until I've finished these ones! So I'm compelled to keep writing and writing. And I actually wrote this in a few hours, which shows how dedicated I was to the task! I hope they're both in character in the last part - I tried my best to keep him slightly jerky, but at the same time intrigued about this girl he's met. With everything going to plan, I'll have the next chapter up (not exactly the same as this one, just in Shane's POV. I'm going to try and advance it along a bit more, only including little bits of this one) tomorrow. Thursday at least! I'm so glad you guys seem to like it though!_

_**Disclaimer (seeing as I forgot that in the last two I wrote): **Nope, don't own any of the things I'm writing about. Camp Rock or the Jonas Brothers lyrics that I'll use later on. Honest._

_**Music: **Whistle for the Choir - The Fratellis_

**_"Well it's a big, big city and it's always the same, can never be too pretty, tell me your name"_**

"Thank you Caitlin!" I smiled, leaning down to talk to her from my standing position in my driveway. "Even though I'll deny that I ever said these words, I had fun."

She grinned at me. "Even though I will never admit that I said this, I had a lot of fun."

I laughed. "I guess we'll both never acknowledge this moment ever again then."

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "At least we have an understanding."

"That's what friends are for."

She smiled at me and then looked over at the door to my house, which had just opened and my mom was stood waving at Cait. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow Mitchie! Mall, right?"

"Mall," I agreed, rolling my eyes slightly at the sudden appearance of my mother and standing back to shut the door. "See you later!"

Caitlin grinned at me, waved slightly to my mom and then reversed out of the driveway, disappearing down the street. Wanting to stay outside for a little longer, just to watch the world pass by, I turned back to where my mom was standing and figured that she might not let me do that. Not without a jacket anyway. So, sighing, I walked up to the door and put on a smile.

"How was your night?"

I raised my eyebrows, shrugging. "Connect 3 concert. Cait knew that I'd avoid it if she told me the truth. Wasn't the worst performance I've ever seen. Nor was it the best."

My mom obviously wasn't totally fooled by the lack of excitement in my voice. She, like my best friend, had obviously thought that I'd be riveted by the prospect of going to see Connect 3 in Cohasset. So not. Okay, so in the mind of the woman in front of me I might still be about fifteen, but that's not the case anymore. People grow out of these things. They wake up and see the truth, instead of just the way that the teenage magazines portray someone. They realise that people they once thought were incredibly cute and talented and just all around amazing in general, turn out to be the complete opposite. Well... he's still cute. That didn't change overnight.

Ugh. I just thought that Shane Grey was cute. That's the most annoying thing I've ever thought.

"I'm going to bed," I announced, looking at my mom and putting on a smile.

She knew I wasn't - not going straight to sleep anyway. It was a Saturday night, it was barely eleven at night (so much for Cait saying that we'd be home for midnight... we're home before the clock strikes eleven. Cinderella would have been disappointed in us) and I didn't look or feel tired. My mom knows me like the back of her hand. She can tell when I'm not being totally truthful.

The awesome thing about her though? She usually won't even question it. Like now. She just smiled at me and stepped aside to let me through the door. "Say goodnight to your dad first though. He hasn't seen you all night."

"I'll make it up to him tomorrow! He can come shopping with me and Cait, if he wants!" I didn't have to force the smile this time, and was greeted in the hallway with my dad coming to say goodnight (he'd obviously been listening in) and rolling his eyes.

"As long as you make sure you tell me if I look fat in the clothes I try on," he joked, pulling me into a hug.

I laughed and nodded. "Well duh! What else are daughters for?"

Mom laughed too and shook her head. "Not for helping around the house in any way, shape or form."

"And... that is my cue to disappear upstairs. Because I don't want to be dragged into this conversation..." I smiled, stepping onto the bottom step so that I could make a quick getaway. "Night!"

I received two 'goodnight's' in reply and minutes later I'd run up the stairs and closed my bedroom door behind me, collapsing on the bed. Exactly as I'd left it. Nothing exciting had happened while I'd been gone then.

Although... nothing exciting ever happens while I'm here either. I might as well face it: Connect 3 coming here probably _is _the most exciting thing to have ever happened here. And it's likely to stay that way for quite a while, too.

Glancing at the clock that sat on the little table beside my bed, I watched as the numbers changed slowly from 11:13 to 11:14, and then sighed. Was this seriously what I had succumbed to? Going to a concert and then lying on my bed and watching the numbers on the clock change? It just wasn't right.

I got up and walked over to my window, looking out and then pushing it open. If I was going to spend another Saturday night doing nothing in particular, I was going to do nothing my way.

--

It was almost pitch black, I was sitting on my roof and I was humming along to the song that was playing on my iPod. This was really the only place that I had the confidence to sing out loud. Which sucked for me, seeing as in order to live my dream I'd have to be able to sing somewhere other than my roof. I doubt that all of the concerts I may have could be held in my front yard. But my roof was my special place; watching all the lights in the town flicker out and being able to sit alone with my thoughts. There was something special about it. My thoughts and nothing else.

They were wandering, like they always do. My thoughts, I mean. What was surprising me though, was what they were wandering to. Connect 3 of all things. Connect damn 3. Call me a deluded secret fangirl if you must (though I'd kind of rather you didn't actually) but I could have sworn that Shane Grey looked at me after that concert. Hell, not just looked at me but purposefully retained eye contact with me. It's easy to just look at someone in a room full of people, especially when the room is full of people who are crazy fans. It's easy to just look at someone. Keeping eye contact is something you actually have to mean, right?

So why? Why would the infamous Shane Grey want to look at me? He doesn't know me, nor would he care about me if he did. As far as he was concerned I was just another fan. Just another girl that he'd see in a crowd in a small town that he'd forget about sooner or later. Probably sooner.

My iPod switched to a Connect 3 song, and before I could even think about it I found myself singing along. This was one of the ones that seemed real. Seemed as though someone had taken the time to scribble out the lyrics that didn't feel right and slaved over the chord progression to make sure that it was perfect, as opposed to some of the more well-known stuff of theirs. The stuff that sounded as though it was written and recorded in a day, churned out like yet another manufactured pop song. Which most of them were.

_"This has been no walk in the park, I feel like we have fallen apart," _I sung quietly to myself, well aware that it was way past midnight - pretty close to one o'clock I'd say - and that my parents were probably asleep. Singing whilst on the roof at this hour would do me no favors. "_Open your eyes girl and see, how wonderful this love could be."_

A movement behind the tree that sat just to the left of our driveway attracted my attention, and I leaned forward slightly to see what it was. A cat? Maybe a bird. But the rustling noise sounded too loud for it to be a cat or a bird. Which set the alarm bells ringing in my head.

Of course, what could whoever it was have done? Here I was, sitting on my roof, way above whoever was down there. It'd take a while to climb up the drainpipe - I could have been back in my room with the window locked and 911 dialled in that time. And if it was some creepy stalker there was no way I'd be stupid enough to climb down to their level myself.

But you don't really think about all that at first.

"Is someone there?" I called out, letting the song carry on playing in my ear. "Because seriously, hiding in trees at midnight isn't cool."

There was a short laugh before I heard a voice reply: "Oh, and sitting singing to yourself on the roof is?"

There was something familiar about the voice, was my first thought. I knew it from somewhere. But I did live in a small town and I did go to the local high school. There were many people it could have been. My second thought was that they were being kind of rude. Especially seeing as I find sitting on the roof way cooler than hiding behind a tree.

"I never claimed it was."

A silence followed this remark, and I began to wonder if the guy either hadn't heard me or if he'd gone.

"That's very true."

"I don't lie," I replied, not exactly being honest with that statement. Which is a contradiction unto itself really. By saying I don't lie, I am, in fact, lying. But it's too late at night (or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it) to be thinking like that about anything.

"What, never?" The voice sounded sceptical, which I suppose I can understand. I mean, how often do you come across a strange girl, singing on the roof of her house - though he didn't know it was my house I guess - at one in the morning, who claims that she never lies? Uh-huh, not often.

"Not if I can help it."

"But sometimes you just can't. Which would mean that you must have lied."

I didn't even know how to reply to this, so just kept my gaze on where I knew someone was standing. And, in that weird sixth sense way, I knew someone was looking right back at me.

"You have a good voice." The guy had obviously gotten tired of the 30 second silence that had passed between us and so broke it.

I shook my head softly, pressing pause on my iPod so that the music stopped. It had moved onto a Coldplay song and I'd only just realised. "I have an okay voice. Nothing special."

"Well from what I heard... it sounded pretty special."

I laughed slightly. "Yeah, well with all due respect, you're hiding in a tree. You don't exactly scream trustworthy."

"That's also very true."

The silence was back. And I felt like I needed to think of something to say; not that I was at a loss. There were so many things I wanted to ask, the main one being WHO THE HELL WAS TALKING TO ME? And then a bunch of other stuff. Biting my lip I went with a more subtle and less threatening approach.

"So, why do I think that I've heard your voice before?"

More quiet while he thought about his answer. Or he hadn't heard me. But I hadn't changed the volume of my voice, so if he'd heard everything else I said...

"Because you probably have."

Well that helped.

"Do you know me?"

"Nope. Well... I've seen you before. I think. But it's dark and I can't really tell."

Wow, it was like twenty questions. Ask something, get a vague answer, carry on until the right answer is guessed.

"Do you live in Cohasset?" I asked, deciding to play along. If he was going to be difficult then I wasn't going to say anything.

"No."

I laughed, unable to help myself.

"What?" He sounded paranoid. "What are you laughing at?"

"Your amazingly detailed answers," I replied.

"Maybe I don't want you to know who I am," the voice snapped back at me, taking me slightly by surprise.

I rolled my eyes, though I'm not sure that would have been seen from where he was standing. "Well fine. But I think a part of you does want me to know. Because why else would you be talking to me?"

"I was just asking myself the same question."

Fine then. If that's how he wanted to play it. I folded my arms and pressed play on my iPod, Chris Martin coming right in as though he hadn't ever stopped. "_...science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart..."_

"I come from a place very like here. But not... actually here."

I couldn't keep the smile from my face. So much for not wanting to talk to me. It was as though this guy couldn't keep himself away. I didn't even know who he was. Stopping the music again, I looked back over to where he was silhouetted. "Oh. Okay. So I don't know you from school. How old are you, Mr. Mysterious?"

"Nineteen," came the answer. "Almost twenty. Not that I act it most of the time."

I couldn't think of any nineteen year olds that I knew. Not that didn't come from Cohasset anyway. "Don't you have anything better to do on a Saturday night, Mr. I-Don't-Act-Twenty?"

"As it happens... no. There's stuff I could be doing, but it's debatable whether it's better."

"That's kinda hard to believe."

I watched the silhouetted figure shrug. "Depends on how you look at things."

Allowing a few more seconds of silence to pass over the street, I tried to think of another question to ask. The obvious ones were the ones I wanted to say.

"So you were just walking down the street and heard me singing so decided to stop for conversation?"

He laughed slightly. At least, I think it was a laugh. "Something like that. I didn't mean to end up here. I was walking, trying to clear my head and... there you were."

"How do you know me, but I don't know you?" I asked, more voicing my thoughts out loud than expecting an actual answer. It was a rhetorical question.

The tone of voice he replied in was almost sad. "You know me."

And I do. The horrible thing is, there's that little nagging feeling in the back of my head that's telling me that I do know him. That I know who he is and that this entire conversation is surreal. But I can't place it. It's like that annoying feeling you get when you hear a song on the radio that you know, and you know the words to, but you can't remember who sung it. It bugs you. And this was bugging me.

"So where do you think you've seen me? I'm officially intrigued."

There was more quiet on his end, but I swear he moved slightly out of the shelter of the tree. He did! I could now see the Converse-clad feet. That didn't give much away though. I'm sure a lot of people wear Converse sneakers.

"I think I saw you tonight."

Tonight?

_Tonight._

I knew that voice. God! How did I not recognise that voice? I'd heard it only hours before. I'd just been listening to it on my iPod! How had I not realised who it was? But there was still a part of me that didn't quite believe it. Couldn't quite believe it. I sat forward slightly more, leaning a little bit more than I should to try and see him for myself. To try and prove it to myself. "You're kidding me."

Nothing. No reply.

"Come out from behind the tree."

Slight movement, but nothing major. He wasn't coming out. How could I get him to come out? I needed to see it. The voice was perfect - there was almost no doubt that it was him - but you know how you just need to _see _things to believe them? Like, actually have them standing in front of you?

"... Shane... I think your name is Shane. Am I right?"

That seemed to do it. The rustling of the dying leaves got louder and slowly, the too familiar figure of Shane Grey stepped out from behind the tree at the start of the driveway and onto the stone that covered it.

Oh my Go...

And that's when I fell off the roof.


	4. Backfired At The Disco

_**Title: **__Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie & Naitlin! Still open to ideas with Jason though!_

_**Authors Note: **__Aww! You guys rock so much! I have no idea where that last line came from, and put it with an element of doubt in my mind (would people think it was really stupid?) but you all seemed to like it and every time I get a new review I want to just have the next chapter so that I can put it up for you. This one took longer to write than I thought it would, and I don't think it's all that amazing. I don't know how I meant it to turn out, but I have a feeling that this isn't what I was expecting. Maybe it'll be good to expand on though! Hopefully I'll have another one for you guys tomorrow, because as I said, every time I get an email telling me someone's reviewed, I want to update for you! Thank you so much!_

_**Disclaimer: **__Unfortunately, I don't own Camp Rock or the Jonas Brothers. Unless you count in my dreams, in which case I also own a Mustang convertible and a huge house in New York. But I don't think it works like that. Sad, really._

_**Music: **__Backfire at the Disco - The Wombats_

_**"Everything was going perfectly until, it backfired at the disco"**_

"...Shane. I think your name is Shane. Am I right?" Her voice was shaking slightly, for which I didn't blame her. Hello, Shane Grey was standing in her driveway. And seeing as she obviously knew that now, there was no point in hiding anymore.

I had barely even stepped into her view when I saw her lean forward a little more than she should have, and I could see the outcome before it actually happened. I could see the outcome before even she could. And before I could even think about it, I was darting forward to try and prevent her from hitting her head on the driveway and being knocked out. Or worse.

I hadn't meant to find her. I didn't think I'd be able to, not in a town where I knew nothing and it was midnight and I presumed she'd be back home. Wherever home was for her. I didn't even want to be thinking about her, because what did I know about her? Nothing. Her first name, what she was wearing tonight, her best friend... and the town where she lived. Not really enough to be able to claim to know someone.

I'd been walking for about an hour, avoiding the busy areas of town (which were easy enough to spot) and sticking mainly to the deserted streets of houses. Most people were in bed at this hour, and the teenagers that weren't sure weren't hanging around the suburbs. They were probably at a party or something.

Mitchie was probably at a party or something.

Shaking my head, I tried to dispense all thoughts of her from my mind. I didn't - no, I couldn't - think about her. I'd get attached. Like I wasn't attached enough already.

I was walking down a street that looked almost identical to the others that I'd been down that night. And that's when I heard it. Someone singing. From a roof. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want it to be her. Because I did. For some weird, insane, crazy, unknown reason I did.

So I hid. And she must have seen me, because the next thing I knew we were having a conversation. Playing twenty questions. Trying to guess who I am and why I'm hiding in a bush. Or a tree. And then she was saying my name and she'd worked out who I was and I was stepping out and then she fell.

One minute I was running to try and save her, the next we were both collapsed on the driveway, considerably more bruised than we had been seconds before.

"Ugh." She was the first one to recover, sitting up slowly and beginning to inspect her body for any damage that might need medical attention. Finding nothing too serious (or at least, I assume she didn't find anything serious because I wasn't being told to call an ambulance) she groaned again. "Well, that was lame. I'm sorry... I could say that that's the first time that's ever happened to me, but that probably wouldn't make this any better. Are you okay? I'm so sorry..."

The apologies continued, something that I would have usually gotten angry with. People were always apologising to me endlessly - "I'm sorry Mr. Grey", "I do apologise Mr. Grey", "words cannot express how sorry we are for the inconvenience Mr. Grey" - and it got frustrating. But this was more amusing than frustrating, especially when I smiled at her from where I was lying on the floor and she smiled hesitantly back.

Then, seconds after the smile, her eyes grew wide. Oh no. Here it came. The all-familiar 'oh-my-god-you're-Shane-Grey' scream. It had finally sunk in. She was going to freak.

"Oh my God!" She hissed, jumping to her feet, something sparking in her eyes. Apparent love for me? Fear that she wasn't wearing enough makeup to meet a celebrity?

"Please don't scream my name," I said, propping myself up on my elbows as I looked up at her.

"Oh my God!" she carried on, ignoring me completely. "I'm... I'm... I'm totally locked out!"

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" I asked, letting the confusion wash over my face. She was more worried about being locked out than she was about me being in her garden?

"My parents are asleep! It's almost one in the morning! My keys are in the house! The only way back in that I have is through my bedroom window. This is not good, this is... really not good." She got up and walked to the front window of the house, that was in darkness as if someone might still be up in her house that could let her in.

Standing up, I held out my hands in the universal 'hold up' motion. "You're worried about being locked out?"

Mitchie turned to look at me, an incredulous expression on her face as though she couldn't believe what I just said. "Yes. It's one in the morning. That is my house. My keys are inside. My mom and dad are asleep. I think being worried about being locked out is a pretty good thing to be worrying about, actually!"

"But... I'm Shane Grey," I said, gesturing to myself as though she hadn't quite seen me yet. Which she obviously had. But she'd just fallen off a roof, so I won't blame her for not being enthusiastic immediately after she saw me.

Her expression went blank as she processed what I'd just said and then she rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding me?"

"I think we've established that I'm not."

Folding her arms over her chest, Mitchie raised an eyebrow at me and she tilted her head to one side. "Well, _Shane Grey_, I actually think that being locked out of my house is a little more important than you stopping by. But you're free to think otherwise. One person's opinion and all that."

That caught me off guard. Seriously? That was the reaction I was going to get? I mean, sure, she'd fallen off the roof in surprise. But no screaming? No autograph requests? No marriage proposals? Just... freaking out over being locked out?

She smirked at me slightly, before turning back to the house and heaving a sigh and muttering to herself. "Damn it. My mom is going to go crazy. 'Michaela Marie Torres, why were you sitting on the roof? Don't you know how dangerous it is?'"

It may not have been directed at me, but my ego had just taken a huge blow and I felt the need to cut in. "Yeah. Surely a girl who's that worried about being locked out should know better than to sit on the roof. Anything could have happened."

"Nothing would have happened if you hadn't come along and started hiding behind trees, pop star." She didn't even turn around to face me while saying this, but turned when she began to continue. "And speaking of which... what was all that about? What was any of it about? Why did you look at me in the concert? And how did you find me? Are you stalking me, because that seems like it's the wrong way around, really. Aren't I supposed to be the one stalking you? Not... not that I would."

Maybe it was a potential head injury, or maybe this was how she was reacting to being locked out (or meeting a famous person, as I'm sure she must have been kinda excited over. She had to be, right?) but she was talking a lot. More than I'd have imagined. "I saw you tonight before the concert. I recognised you at the end. I wasn't looking for you. I was just... walking. And I happened to find you. No stalking involved."

She didn't look too convinced.

"And it's rock star," I added, just for good measure.

That made her laugh, and for some reason I found myself laughing along with her. It was as though she had some infectious control over me.

"Whatever, pop star." She stuck her tongue out at me, and then looked up at the house. It was all in darkness, apart from the window she'd been sitting by, which I presumed was her bedroom.

I sighed, looking at her as she tried to work out how she could get back inside without waking up those in the house. She couldn't do it. I'd been in this position many times before (well... never thanks to sitting on my roof; more because of the parties I'd been to that made sure I'd have to sneak back home when I still lived with my mom and dad) and very rarely could I ever get in without drawing someone's attention. And part of me didn't want her to be able to get in. Because then she'd leave and we wouldn't talk anymore. I'd never see her again. And while I thought that earlier, I know it this time.

So the words that came out of my mouth next were of no big surprise to me, though they obviously were to her.

"Want to go for a walk?"

Her eyes narrowed at me and she seemed to be searching for a reason why. Which I don't blame her for. Why would Shane Grey want to go for a walk with her? Even Shane Grey himself didn't know the answer to that one. When she couldn't think of a logical explanation, she asked the question outright. "Why?"

"Because you're not getting into your house anytime soon, you probably have a lot of questions about me and you might end up having more fun than you'd admit."

I watched as her eyes flickered back to the front door of her house - the sanctuary, the place where I wouldn't be, the place where she could pretend that she'd never even been in this position - and then as they came back to meet mine.

"So what do you say?" I asked, sensing hesitation.

"Okay. Sure."

--

"So..." I began, trying to break the silence that had come between us ever since leaving her house. We'd been walking down several streets since then, stealing awkward glances at each other. At least, I was. And I caught her looking at me a couple of times. But she always looked away before I could smile, or say anything. "Are we going to say anything?"

She made a small laughing sound. "I don't know. Are we?"

"I'd like to..." I said.

There was silence for a few seconds, and I looked over at her to find her biting her lip and looking right back at me. This time she didn't look away. "How about we play twenty questions?"

"Do the ones you already asked me count?"

Thinking for a few seconds, she eventually shook her head. "Nope. We'll start anew. Twenty questions each."

"Passing allowed?" I asked, my tone serious. I might want to pass a question.

"No," she said, shaking her head. At my expression, she rolled her eyes and revised that statement slightly. "Fine. What about... it's a game. You can only pass if you have a very good reason, and if the other person answers the next question without passing... they win. And you lose."

Fine. I just won't pass any questions. Because Shane Grey doesn't lose. "Okay. But I get to go first."

She looked like she was going to protest, but obviously changed her mind, because with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes she gestured at me to ask my first question. "Back to basics. How old are you, Michaela Marie Torres?"

"How do you know my name?" A confused expression clouded her features.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to answer a question with a question?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to hide in trees at midnight?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sit on your roof without your keys at hand?"

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Nope. Nobody ever told me not to do that. Seriously though... my name. How do you know it?"

"You said it back there. When you were talking to yourself. About keys and your mom going crazy..." I didn't mention the fact that I also knew that everyone called her Mitchie (or at least her friend did) from watching her outside the concert that night. The less said about that, the better. At least if she didn't know that, she might not think that I was this psycho stalker. Because I'm so not. "And you still have to answer the question."

"Oh. Right. I'm seventeen. Born on the 5th of November in 1990." She looked up - I was spending more time looking at her than at where I was going at this point in time - and bit her lip before opening her mouth to reply. "Where are we going? I mean, it's a lame question, but seems appropriate. Do you have a plan, or is this just a plot to get me out of my comfort zone?"

Out of your comfort zone? The words that I thought obviously came out of my mouth too, and she shrugged almost shyly.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? You're this infamous pop star, everyone is talking about how much of a jerk you are, you see me at a concert and the next thing I know you're in my driveway luring me out to walk with you..."

I rolled my eyes, stopping dead in the middle of the street. "If that's what you think I'm like, then you can go back home now."

It was as though I could see her thinking about it. Her eyes never left mine, but a flurry of different emotions seemed to go through them before she shook her head. "I just had to make sure. So, where are we walking to?"

Yeah, I hadn't had a plan at all. I didn't know this place; didn't know what lay to my right or what lay to my left. Now that I thought about it, I had no idea where the bus was, no idea which direction I'd have to walk to find my way back. Shane Grey was officially lost.

"You don't know where you are, do you?" Mitchie asked, surveying me carefully and coming to the conclusion that I definitely didn't.

Seeing no alternative but to shake my head, I looked away from her and opted to glance up and down the street to see if I recognised anything from my walk up here. But I'd been too busy. Too busy thinking to think about how I was going to get back. Well this was just brilliant. I was lost. I was lost in Cohasset, Massachusetts. And Nate and Jason would probably be glad to be rid of me, so nobody would look for me. I was stuck here. This was officially the worst thing that could have ever happened. How the hell was -

"Come on. I was at your concert, I know where it is." She'd obviously had enough of watching me getting more and more frustrated, and began to walk ahead, glancing over her shoulder when she got a few feet in front of me. "Well do you want me to show you the way back, or not?"

"Well if you're going to be like that, then no," I snapped without thinking about what I was saying.

The look she gave me was like nothing I'd ever seen before. I mean, I'd had people look at me as though they thought I was an idiot - a jerk even - and I'd hated it. But Mitchie was looking at me with a mix of anger, disbelief and sympathy. "You know what?"

I opened my mouth to reply with a very typical 'what?', but she didn't pause long enough to let me do so.

"You're a jerk. I came to your concert tonight, dragged by my best friend, and although I'd never admit it to anyone but Caitlin, I was kinda looking forward to it. Even though I look at you - the frontman, Shane Grey - and do not get it; get how you could have everything - everything that I, and a million other people in this country can only _dream _of having - and still be like they say. Throwing tantrums like a two-year-old when someone doesn't straighten your hair perfectly or, they catch you in a bad light when they're taking your picture. But I was excited, because I thought that maybe... maybe when I saw you, with the music playing and doing something that you apparently love so much... maybe you'd be different. Maybe all the things I saw on HotTunes were exaggerated, or made up. And you looked at me! Right at me, and I could not get that out of my head. So I came home, back to my normal lifestyle with my normal mom and dad and no celebrity parties or... anything that you have. And I sat on my roof, and suddenly you're there. You're telling me I have a good voice and that you don't have anything better to be doing, but I didn't know it was you. I had no idea that this nice guy could be Shane Grey. And then I found out that it's you, and even though I'm locked out and potentially in so much trouble already and have no idea who you are really, I offer to help you find your way home. And all I'm getting in return? Some smartass, jerky comment that probably makes you feel superior to me. I'm a person, Shane Grey. And funnily enough, I was taught not to treat people the way that you're treating most people around you."

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to think of some way to reply to that. Where were my constant supply of witty (albeit jerky) comebacks when I needed them? I could think of something to say when other people called me a jerk. Why couldn't I think of anything now?

Mitchie didn't look like she was regretting anything she'd said to me. The emotions in her expression had softened considerably and she didn't look so angry anymore. But she wasn't happy, I knew that much.

Nobody had ever been that forthcoming with me. Nate had tried to be, but usually his anger got the best of him before he could say anything of real impact. And sure, the magazines had said their fair share, but this was different. This was a girl that had no real impact on the world. Not many people would be influenced by what she said. Which meant that out of everyone, she was the most likely to tell it like she saw it. This girl, who didn't really know me, whom I didn't really know, was telling me what was wrong with me. And the horrible thing was... she had it right. If she'd been wrong, I could have laughed it off. I could have told her that she barely knew me, so she couldn't base her judgement on anything. But hadn't I been thinking earlier about how none of my fans really knew me?

I had no idea how to reply to something that was so honest. She'd meant every word she said, and every word she said had been true. I had my reasons for it, but I was still acting like a jerk.

Feeling like I had to say something - anything - I racked my brain, trying to say something that she'd find typical Shane. "I... I do not yell at people for not straightening my hair perfectly."

She rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look at me. "Whatever. I'm half tempted to leave you walking around town all night, looking for your tour bus."

"Only half tempted?" I asked, slightly hopeful. There was no way I wanted to be walking around here all night long. And maybe if she agreed to walk back with me, I'd be able to convince her that I wasn't just Shane Grey: über jerk.

Mitchie sighed and held out a hand. "Okay. Start over. Hey, I'm Mitchie Torres."

"Hey Mitchie. I'm Shane Grey." I smiled, taking her hand and shaking it slightly.

She smiled back, before looking down at our hands that had possibly been intertwined for a few seconds longer than a normal handshake would require and pulled her hand back. "Well pop star. Let's go and find your band. There's a possibility they're missing you."


	5. Feels Like I Have Always Known You

_**Title: **__Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie & Naitlin! Still open to ideas with Jason though!_

_**Authors Note: **__So here I am, back again. I'm a little iffy about this chapter, but I wanted to move it on near the end, because I'm five chapters in and I've barely changed the time setting. So it's the next day at the end of this chapter, though that's pretty obvious. I hope it's all okay, because I tried to keep them in character, but still have the element of Shane changing slightly. Maybe it won't come across like that, but just let me know what you think!_

_**Disclaimer: **__Camp Rock is not mine. I repeat: Camp Rock is not mine._

_**Music: **__Speechless - The Veronicas_

"_**Feels like I have always known you, and I swear I dreamt about you, all those endless nights I was alone"**_

As soon as that speech had left my lips I felt guilty. Two years ago I wouldn't have been able to say something like that to anyone, let alone a kind of cute, famous guy. Even if he was acting like he expected the entire Earth to rotate around him. I hadn't even intended to say any of that to him, but... argh. One minute he seemed nice and normal, and the next second he was suddenly totally egotistical and jerky. It was like a split personality, only I knew he didn't have that excuse. No. Shane Grey was just a jerk. Pure and simple.

Still, the look on his face had me doubting it. It was as though I'd gotten through somehow, to the Shane Grey that still had human emotions. Like hurt and happiness and that crazy feeling you get when you meet someone who has the potential to change your life.

"I do not yell at people for not straightening my hair perfectly."

I was relieved at how 'typical-Shane' this response was. At least he wasn't screaming at me. At least he didn't hate me for putting him in his place with my opinion. There was a flicker of something in his eyes though. Hurt, maybe? Anger? Had I touched a nerve?

"Whatever. I'm half-tempted to leave you walking around town all night, looking for your tour bus." As much as I felt slightly bad, it wasn't enough to tell him so. Someone had to say that stuff to him, otherwise he'd never get the message. He'd carry on being a jerk.

I watched him closely, observing the smile that came over his face. It was a childish smile; one that reminded me of the Shane that had first been presented to the world a few years ago. I'd loved that Shane.

"Only half tempted?"

How could I resist that? Shane Grey had been yelled at for acting like a jerk and suddenly transformed. And sure, maybe it was an act; a ploy to get me to do what he wanted. But I was interested. In his life, his attitude. Interested in him. So my sigh that I heaved in reply was slightly exaggerated. "Okay." I held out my hand. "Start over. Hey, I'm Mitchie Torres."

This seemed to work for him. "Hey Mitchie, I'm Shane Grey."

That was much better. Glancing down at our hands - which seemed to fit together perfectly, I annoyingly noticed - I pulled mine away and then continued walking. "Well pop star. Let's go and find your band. There's a possibility they're missing you."

His strides were longer than mine, so he'd caught up with me in a matter of seconds. Slowing down to match my pace (which was a kinda nice thing to do, at least he wasn't miles ahead all the time) he gave me another flash of that celebrity smile. "So if I'm correct, it was my question."

Oh yeah. I replied only with a nod, my sudden burst of confidence I'd found before telling him off, disappearing by the minute.

"Hmm... what's your favorite thing in the world?" I guessed that now he knew my name and age, he wanted to get a little more personal.

I knew my reply almost immediately though, hardly having to think about it. "Music."

"My music?"

"It's not my absolute favorite," I admitted, more to keep him in his place than anything else.

"But you acknowledge it?" he asked, even though I knew he'd seen me at the concert.

I rolled my eyes. "I was at your concert, wasn't I? And I could be mean and say you just asked three questions, bringing your total left down to sixteen."

"Hey no! That's not fair!" The protest that I knew would come, came, but I still laughed. "Okay, no more questions after questions. But you have to be more elaborate with your answers. No single word sentences either."

I couldn't exactly argue with that. "Okay fine." Taking a few seconds to work out how to word it, I took a break before answering his question with detail. "Music is my favorite thing in the world. I love the power it can have over people. Music can change people's mood; make a person happier or even more depressed. The lyrics in a song can relate to a being, make people feel as though they aren't alone in the world. It can touch people in ways that people just... saying these things can't. Music is universal. You can go to a concert with a thousand strangers, but in those minutes, where you're all singing the same words, you feel like you know them. I'm not an outgoing person, not usually, but when it's me and a piano... nothing else matters." I shook my head, looking away from his face (which was looking pretty awestruck at my monologue) and down at my feet, scuffing my sneakers against the sidewalk. "Detailed enough?"

"Mitchie... that is..." Shane didn't even seem to be able to string an actual sentence together.

"Why does everyone think you're such a jerk?" I asked, cutting him off, my gaze still on my feet. This was a personal question, I knew. But he had to expect it, I guess.

He hesitated, I could tell from the lack of response I got in the first few seconds, and I looked up to see whether he was angry with me for straying into that territory. He didn't look it and after about a minute of silence, answered. "Because I act it."

I raised my eyebrows at him, seeing if he got the message. He could not tell me to elaborate and then not himself. How hypocritical. Then again, he was a jerk. Apparently.

"Fine," he said, obviously picking up on my subtle hint. "My record label want to run my life. They change the songs we write, decide on everything and are trying to mould us into this manufactured boy band. And I hate it. So I rebel. I've never been any good at talking things out, which means showing how I feel. I act like a jerk... because it's the only way I can think of to make my feelings known."

"But surely you can see that it's not the best way," I said, suddenly a little more sympathetic towards him. I hadn't realised. I thought he was just... like that.

He took a deep breath and then shrugged. "I have the reputation now. Everyone thinks I'm this bad boy and I don't know how to change that. I don't know if I can."

I smiled at him slightly, my mind buzzing with this new information. I'd been under the impression that fame had gone to his head. But he'd been screwed by fame. Record contractors had caused him to be like this. But while it didn't mean that he had to be suck a jerk, he'd built up this reputation and I understood how hard it was to change what people thought you were. "I think you'd manage it better than you think you would."

Shane looked at me, a curious expression on his face. "You think so?"

"You're not acting like a jerk right now."

"You're right, I'm not."

Silence passed between us again. Under the intensity of his gaze - which hadn't left me since I showed my faith in him; I'm not even sure whether he was blinking - I felt my cheeks glowing and looked away, thankful it was ridiculously early in the morning and dark. At least he wouldn't see my blushing.

"Hey! There's a park!" Shane had obviously turned his attention away from me, because he noticed the looming climbing frame ahead. "Are there swings?"

"What sort of park would it be without swings?"

"A lame one, that's for sure." Then, with no warning, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the park, through the rusted, broken gate and only let go to jump on a swing. "What's your biggest fear?"

Sitting down on the swing next to him, I pushed myself back and forth, my foot not leaving the tarmac surface. "Fading away. Not having an impact on anyone in life. Which is an irrational fear, sure, because I've already impacted my parents, my family, Caitlin... I just... I don't know. I'm not the most confident person in the world and I don't just want to be known as 'that shy Mitchie girl'."

This was amazing. This was the most honest I'd been in so long, and my confidante - the person witnessing my heartfelt honesty - was none other than Shane Grey. It was almost unreal.

"I can honestly say that you can add someone else to your list," Shane said, and I could detect the truthfulness in his voice. I'd known him for less than an hour and could already tell when he was telling the truth. "You've made an impact on me."

Even the darkness couldn't hide my smile (I don't know why it made me smile either) and I could hear Shane take in a breath to make a comment about it. My question cut him off though. "What's one thing you've always wanted to do but never done?"

"Ooh," he said, instead of whatever he was going to say about my unexplained smile. "Good question. I'm going to have to say... go to a school dance. It may be crazy, but I hardly went to high school properly and so I'd love to do that. Or write a love song for someone."

I laughed, still rocking back and forwards and watching as he launched himself higher. "I'm sure a million girls would offer themselves up as inspiration for a love song from you."

"All I need is one."

The quiet was back, apart from the odd creaks from the old swings.

"Ever been in love, Mitchie Torres?" The question came from nowhere, taking me by surprise. Though maybe that was the point. I'd answer straight away, without thinking. Truthfully.

"No." Realising I'd have to add detail, I bit my lip. "A few dates here and there, but nothing substantial. Nothing of importance. What about you?" I asked, totally unsure of what to expect as an answer. Totally unsure of what I wanted the answer to be.

"Me? No. Never."

I couldn't quite pinpoint the tone of voice. Confusion over why he had never felt that way? Sadness as to why nobody had gotten that close?

Getting up off the swing, I walked over to the climbing frame, placing a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and pulling myself up. Once I got to the top, I sat on the small ledge, turning back to face Shane who had stopped swinging and that curious look back on his face, watching me.

"What?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at him.

"I don't know. I just feel... you're the first... nobody else..." Each new sentence ended with a shake of his straight, black hair. "This may be a weird question, but favorite season?"

Wow. Weird. I'd just been thinking about that earlier. Only hours ago. Before any of this. Before the concert. I didn't have to think too hard about my reply. "Fall. It's so raw and beautiful, but not in an obvious way. It's confusion in nature, and often imperfect. But that's what makes it so real."

A strange look filled Shane's face for a few seconds. It was dark, so harder to read, but I'm not sure I'd have distinguished it anyway, because seconds later he was jumping from the swing and extending a hand to help me down."C'mon. Let's go."

--

"So my mom's a caterer and my dad owns a hardware store. Exciting, I know. We don't have an excessive amount of money, but we're doing okay. I wouldn't change them for the world," I admitted, smiling at the thought of my mom and dad. They were embarrassing sometimes, sure, but they were awesome really. The venue of the concert was just ahead, and we turned the corner to find the bus sitting there. I was sure he could've found his way to here from a few streets back, but neither of us had mentioned this, so I was still with him.

"Shane!" The exclamation that came from the bus as we approached was loud, and the next thing I knew, Jason Reamer from Connect 3 was jumping down the steps and running toward us, capturing Shane in a bear hug. The sight was kind of amusing, I have to admit. "You're not dead!"

"Thankfully." Another voice came from the bus, and Nate Williams was the next face I saw. Well duh, they were all in the same band.

"Well, I got you back. Now to go home and try to find a way in..." I said, smiling slightly at the other two before looking at Shane and gesturing over my shoulder to the direction we'd walked in.

His face dropped slightly. "Are you sure you don't want to..."

"Hey, you were at the concert tonight!" Jason exclaimed, smiling at me. "Front row, right?"

I laughed and nodded. "Yeah. My friend Caitlin got tickets. She loves you guys. Especially Nate." God, Cait was going to kill me for saying that.

"So what are you doing here?" Nate asked, his cheeks slightly redder than they had been seconds ago. I guess he still wasn't used to the prospect of fan-girls. Or maybe he was just so used to them adoring Shane, that he didn't realise that he was almost as cute. Or even more cute, if you were Caitlin Gellar.

"It's a long story," I said, looking at Shane.

"I was walking, heard her singing on her roof, hid in a tree, she saw me and asked all these questions about who I was, found out I was Shane Grey, fell off her roof, realised she was locked out, I realised I was lost, she offered to help me find my way back here - after yelling at me might I add, and so we're here."

"Or... maybe it isn't so long. If you're Shane." I shrugged. The cliff-notes version would do.

Nate looked from me, to his bandmate and his face contorted into a weird expression. "Wait, you were the girl outside the concert. The 'OH MY GOSH I LOVE CONNECT 3' girl. The one he couldn't take his eyes off of. Right?"

"I... I don't know. I'm sure there were a lot of girls screaming that at the concert..." He'd seen me? Being all moody and sarcastic? Why hadn't he mentioned that one?

Though... I guess I hadn't asked.

"No. You're her. Well, that's serendipitous."

This was officially weird. Here I was, engaged in conversation with Connect 3 (well, most of them. Jason hadn't said much for a few minutes), outside their tour bus, at almost two in the morning. How many people would be able to claim that one?

"I... I think I have to go. I still don't know how I'm going to get into my house, and it's pretty late. Or... early."

Jason looked at me oddly, his head tilted to one side. "You can't go."

"What?" Shane asked, not sounding sorry that Jason had spoken up (because I have a feeling that he was about to come up with an excuse too) but confused as to why.

"Shane. It's two in the morning. She's a teenage girl. Who knows what could happen if she walks home alone. And you can't walk her back, because then you'll be lost again and she'd have to walk you back here and then we'd be in this situation again."

"Wow. That actually makes sense." Nate looked slightly surprised, as though moments of sense came to Jason rarely, and then he turned to Shane and nodded. "He's right."

"So she can stay with us. On the bus," Shane replied.

Nate shrugged. "Where will she sleep? The couch?"

"She can have my bed," Shane answered, almost as soon as the last word had left Nate's lips.

This comment seemed to cause Nate more surprise than Jason's moment of sense. And I'll admit, it surprised me too. Shane was willing to give up his bed for me?

"And where will you sleep?" Nate asked, looking at the guy next to me as though he'd grown an extra head.

Jason laughed, as though it were obvious. "The couch. Duh."

"The couch." Shane agreed, nodding firmly. "Well that's settled then."

I held out my hands, my nose wrinkled. "Do I not get a say in this whatsoever?"

"Mitchie, Jason's right. It could be dangerous to let you walk home yourself. And I'm not going to let anything like that happen to you, so you're staying with us. You can have my bed, it's totally fine. One night on the couch won't hurt me."

Nate was back to looking from me to Shane, an expression that was almost a smirk written on his face now.

"Come on, Mitchie! I'll show you around. It's a pretty cool bus. We can play Xbox or watch movies or do anything..." Jason grabbed my arm and pulled me along, pulling me up the steps of the bus. I took one last glance at Shane, who was watching me with a smile on his face and then shook my head in disbelief.

This was officially weird.

--

"Michaela Marie Torres!"

Wow. It was all just a dream? I dreamt I met Shane Grey and slept in his bus because he and his band wouldn't let me walk home on my own? Pretty vivid dream. Maybe if I go back to sleep, I'll have it again.

"Wake up!"

Wait... that's not my mom's voice. That's Caitlin's. What? Did I sleep over at hers last night? I don't remember that one. Maybe she stayed at mine? Nope... that doesn't sound right either.

"Do not make me resort to cold water."

I opened one eye to find my curly-haired friend glaring down at me, her hands on her hips. My surroundings weren't familiar though. There was a bed above mine, the room was amazingly small... as though it were squeezed into a very small...

WHAT?

"WHAT?" I sat up immediately, causing my head to collide with the supports of the bed above me, creating a loud cracking noise. "OH MY GOD THAT HURT SO MUCH." Cradling my head in my hands while the pain subsided, the memories of the night before flooded through my brain. It hadn't been a dream. I was actually on the Connect 3 tour bus.

"What was that?" A voice joined us in the room, sounding worried. "Mitchie! Are you okay?"

I could almost _hear _Caitlin roll her eyes. "She's fine. Realisation dawned on her and it hurt more than she'd thought."

"What?" The voice asked - Shane Grey's voice - and I knew that he wasn't used to meeting people like Caitlin. Not many people were actually. Cait was one of a kind.

"Can you just leave us alone for two seconds?" Caitlin asked, and I could tell that she was torn between screaming in excitement because she was in the Connect 3 tour bus, and screaming in anger because for some reason... she was angry. He obviously did so, because the next thing I knew, she was pulling my aching head out of my hands. "Mitchie!"

"What?" I asked, my head still ringing, my mind still going through everything that had happened last night and my brain still confused as to why Caitlin was apparently so angry. And how she found me. "How... how did you know I was here?"

She thrust her Sidekick in my face, an internet page opened on it. _'Connect 3 in Massachusetts, connecting more with fans than we think?'_ Below the terrible headline was a picture of me and Shane at the park, one of all of us outside the bus and then one of me getting on the bus. They weren't brilliant quality, but you could tell it was me. If you were looking closely.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, my eyes widening. "What? Why? How? Who?"

"The paparazzi," Caitlin sat down next to me on Shane's bed. "And you'll have to answer the rest of those questions, because I called you this morning to find out when we were meeting at the mall and your mom said you'd gone. She's worried by the way. And then I go onto Perez Hilton and you're there with Shane Grey! Why didn't you call me and tell me you were hanging out with famous people? I thought you didn't like them!"

She obviously hadn't spoken to Shane then. "I didn't know!" Retelling the story with a little more detail than Shane had told his friends, I missed out a few things (like my blushing and the twenty questions thing...). When I had finished, her mouth was open and she was looking at me wide-eyed. "I swear, I had no idea that there were people taking pictures. And I didn't even mean to. I fell off my roof!"

"I can't believe you Mitchie!" Cait cried, throwing her arms up in the air, and finding them slamming against the support of the bed above. "Ow!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "That darn bed."

She looked at me strangely before succumbing to the laughter herself. After a few minutes of laughter, she looked at me seriously, before glancing at the door that separated us from the rest of the bus. "So you spent the night with Shane Grey, huh?"

"He slept on the couch, Cait," I told her, rolling my eyes at her implication.

"Shane Grey slept on the couch so that you could have a bed?" Her voice was louder than necessary, and I cringed at it, hoping that he couldn't hear her.

"Maybe he isn't as big of a jerk as I thought he was," I admitted finally, choosing my words carefully.

Not carefully enough, apparently.

"Wow. I told you. I told you that you might leave that concert thinking that Shane Grey was hot stuff."

"Hot stuff?"

My best friend nodded. "Like hot sauce hot."

"What does that even mean?" I asked, my head not hurting quite as much now. Maybe I should get up and get home. Mom was worried?

"It means that you totally have the hots for a certain rock star - " Caitlin began, folding her arms and looking at me in that annoying interrogating way that she often does.

"Pop star," I corrected, without even thinking about it.

She gave me another weird look and then continued: " - and that I can be the annoying best friend and sing that lovely kindergarten song that gets on people's nerves. You ready? _Shane and Mitchie sitting in a tree..._"

Throwing a pillow at her, I got up and rolled my eyes, willing her to stop with my mind. It wasn't true. "Shut up Caitlin." Then, ignoring whatever comeback she threw in my direction, I left the bedroom.


	6. I Know Who I Am

_**Title: **__Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie & Naitlin! Still open to ideas with Jason though!_

_**Authors Note: **__Um... yeah I hate this chapter. I just don't like it. Part of me feels like I'm moving too fast, and then part of me thinks not enough... plus homework is killing me right now. So I might not be able to update until the weekend, because I just need to focus on everything I have on my plate. Unfortunately, priority has to go to the schoolwork. Thank you to those who are reviewing (especially Enigmaforum and suburbs) because you all make me smile. And hopefully you don't read this sucky chapter and not want to carry on reading! I'm planning on making the next one a lot better and advancing it on a bit more. These ones had to set up the story._

_**Disclaimer: **__I totally own Camp Rock. I also own a Ferrari, have tickets to every single Jonas Brothers concert and live in Buckingham Palace. And in case you hadn't guessed... none of that was true._

_**Music: **__I Can't Stop This Feeling I've Got - Razorlight_

_**"And I can't stop this feeling I've got, I know who I am and I know who I'm not"**_

I woke up on the couch, Nate sitting in the seat opposite me, watching with an odd look on his face. Which was weird in a number of ways. One, the fact that he was watching me with the odd look on his face that I couldn't figure out. And two, the fact that he was watching me sleep anyway. That was not something either of us did often. Moving slowly - the couch was not a comfortable place to be - I sat up so that I could actually talk to him about why he was looking at me as though I'd grown an extra head.

"What?" I raised my eyebrows at him. He'd been acting like this ever since I'd gotten back the night before. Mitchie had come in, talked slightly awkwardly for about half an hour and then, after a lot of protesting about it, fallen asleep in my bed. Thankfully our manager, Jeff, had opted to stay in a hotel. We hadn't been asked, something that I had a feeling was because of me. I deserved to sleep in the bus. But we definitely had a 'no girls' rule, so I was glad he'd left us here. He'd jump to the wrong conclusions.

"You're on the couch." Nate stated this as though this were something that I may not have noticed.

"And? Mitchie needed my bed." It wasn't like I'd just randomly decided to up and sleep on the uncomfortable couch. That would have been a lot weirder than this. Nobody just chose to sleep on the couch for the hell of it.

Nate didn't look deterred by this brilliant piece of arguing on my part. "Since when did Shane Grey care about his fans? Since when did you look out for girls you barely know?"

Ah. I see his point now. But I can still fight it. "Since always. I've just never had the opportunity to show how much I care. Until now anyway."

"Sure Shane. Sure. That's why you've come back from one walk, a changed person."

A changed person? Seriously? I had not come back a changed person. A little more aware of what people really thought of me. A bit better at talking to people. But a changed person was pushing it just a little bit.

"I am not a changed person."

Nate just shrugged, in that annoying 'no-matter-what-you-say-I-know-I'm-right' way. "Whatever."

"I'm not!" I repeated, just as someone hammered at the door of the tour bus. Nobody got within touching distance of the bus, Big Rob made sure of that. So whoever it was must be important.

Getting up to go and answer it, Nate turned to me before he opened the door. "I'm just saying... Shane Grey slept on the couch. For a girl to sleep in his bed. Better hope the press doesn't get wind of that one. Your bad boy reputation might be in tatters."

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I didn't care about my reputation. As far as I was concerned, anything that could change people's perceptions of me - even just a little - was good. Pulling my shirt over my head, I made myself slightly more presentable for whoever was at the door, though my hair was probably a mess. Ugh.

Nate pulled open the door, revealing Big Rob and a girl that I instantly recognised as Mitchie's best friend. The look of determination on her face faded momentarily as Nate looked at her, and I remembered what Mitchie had said about him being Caitlin's favorite (though I had no idea why), but was back within seconds.

"Is Mitchie still here?" She asked, glancing from me Nate, to me, to our bodyguard who was still watching her closely. I'd guessed that the only reason she'd gotten this far was thanks to the fact that she seemed to know our guest.

I stood up, pushing the blanket that I'd been using onto the floor. "Yeah, she's..."

"How did you know?" Nate interrupted, with what - now that I think about it - was a very good question.

Caitlin shrugged. "You mean you guys don't know?"

Know what? I got the sudden feeling that whatever it was that we didn't know, it wasn't going to be too good.

"Perez Hilton is lapping it up. Thinks that it just proves that Shane is really the rock star rebel that everyone is claiming he is." the girl said, with another shrug.

Nate swore, jumping over the chair that he'd previously been sitting on and grabbing his laptop, turning it on quicker than I'd ever seen him. "What have you done now?"

The accusatory tone in his voice annoyed me. "What the hell? What do you mean what have I done? Nothing. She offered to help me find my way back here, and we all agreed that it was safer not to let her walk around the streets on her own. Or have you conveniently forgotten that one?"

"Shane!" Nate cried, his eyes widening at whatever was on his computer screen. "They think... they think that you..."

I walked around the tiny coffee table to look over his shoulder at the screen. The title almost made my heart stop, I swear. Which was new to me. Why did I care so much? It wasn't the first time lies had been printed about me, and I doubted it would be the last. But this wasn't just me anymore. _'Connect 3 in Massachusetts, connecting more with fans than we think?' _

"What is Jeff gonna say?" Nate asked, his face stricken. I guess he knew just as well as I did that we'd all agreed to her being on the bus for the night. And that none of us had banked on this one happening.

"What do you mean 'what is Jeff gonna say'? Who cares what he's gonna say? He doesn't run our lives, Nate. Or he shouldn't. What about Mitchie? What about what people are gonna think about her?" The words had left my mouth before I even thought about them. And as soon as I saw Nate's expression change from worry into confusion and then into that annoying look that he'd perfected over the years.

I didn't know why I cared so much about her. Maybe because she'd shown me something the night before. She'd shown me who I used to be. She'd shown me that it didn't necessarily have to be the way that it was; I could change things. And I considered her my friend. And friends didn't allow other friends to be bad mouthed in the press for doing absolutely nothing.

Caitlin cleared her throat from where she was still standing, and we both looked over to where she was. "Excuse me? I'd kind of like to see my friend, because she's been missing all night and both her mom and I are kind of worried..."

"Her mom?" I asked, looking up at her and nodding to Rob to show that she was okay to come inside.

"Oh, she's not here. Connie doesn't stay updated on Perez, so she has no idea. But she's still worried about where her only daughter is..."

Nate was reading through the various comments, muttering some of them under his breath. I didn't want to hear them. Any of them.

"She's in the room to the right. Bottom bunk."

Caitlin nodded and climbed inside, walking slightly slower than I'd have expected someone who was worried about their best friend. She seemed to be kinda awestruck about the fact that she was in Connect 3's tour bus. But she was handling it fairly well, all things considered. Most girls would have been hyperventilating by now. She disappeared into the room and I heard Mitchie's whole name. It made me smile slightly, but I quickly realised and shook it from my face. No. No way.

"Oh God Shane. We are in so much trouble. Erin is going to kill you for this."

"Me?" I exclaimed, not sure why our PR agent would take this solely out on me. For once I didn't have everything to do with it.

"Well naturally you're going to be the one suspected. You were the one with her in the park. You're the rebellious one. You're the one most likely to pick up random girls on the street and hook up with them!" Nate's voice got progressively louder, and part of me hoped that Mitchie wasn't fully awake yet and so couldn't hear them.

I opened my mouth to reply, but didn't get a chance to, because right then a loud bang came from my room, followed by Mitchie's voice yelling in pain. What had Caitlin done, tried to kill her? Before I could even think about it, I was running through to my room, only to find Mitchie cradling her head in her hands and her best friend looking at her with both an amused and sympathetic look on her face.

"What was that? Mitchie, are you okay?"

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "She's fine. Realisation dawned on her and it hurt more than she thought."

What? What the heck did that mean? Was it cryptic? "What?" I asked, knowing that I wasn't going to get an explanation until the words came out of my mouth.

"Can you just leave us alone for two seconds?"

There wasn't much point in arguing, I knew that much. Plus, I'm sure that Mitchie would rather have her best friend with her than me. So I went back out to the main part of the bus, only to find Jason there too. And amazingly, just as I walked in, the door burst open and a very angry looking Jeff walked in.

"Anybody care to explain?"

I rolled my eyes, in typical Shane fashion, and collapsed back on the couch. "Gee, hello to you too Jeff. Good morning."

"Don't give me that crap Shane. Where is she?"

Nate stood up, his laptop having been put away and held out a hand. "It isn't what you're thinking."

"Yeah, Mitchie didn't do anything that that guy on that website was implying," Jason threw in his two cents.

Jeff didn't seem to care, not looking at either of the others while they attempted to explain. Just at me. Figures. "Shane?"

"I went for a walk after the show, as you know. I found myself on her street, lost. She offered to walk me back, because she'd been at the concert and knew where the bus was. I needed her help, because otherwise I'd have been stranded. We got back here and realised that for her to get back home, she'd have to walk on her own. And I'm sure that you're aware of why that's not the safest option." My tone couldn't have sounded more annoyed. Always assuming things about me, that's what people were doing. I know, I'd brought it on myself. I'd done this to myself. But it wasn't fair.

Caitlin's voice floated through from the room that I'd left them in. "Shane Grey slept on the couch so that you could have a bed?"

Alright. I couldn't help myself. I smiled at that. Sure, the disbelief in her voice was evident and I couldn't help but wonder whether I really was all that bad. But Mitchie had obviously been talking about me.

"Is that her?" Jeff sounded slightly less angry, but not much. Though why he was angry, I don't know. It's not like it was any of his business.

"No. That's her best friend. She heard that she was here and came to collect her. Because they were worried. Imagine how more worried they'd have been to have no idea where she was. Like they might have been had we left her to wander the streets..." I couldn't help the jabs. He was just... it was just so frustrating. We had done the right thing. I knew we were right. But here was our manager, telling us off for that.

I just earned myself a dirty look. "I need to call Erin and sort out damage control. This is not good for you guys at all."

Just then, Mitchie walked out of the bedroom, her hair dishevelled, her clothes wrinkled from spending the night in them and the tiredness still not completely gone from her eyes. She stopped dead upon seeing us all, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, you guys."

"What are you sorry for?" I wrinkled my nose in confusion. She'd done nothing. Why should she need to apologise?

"I'm sorry for falling off my roof. I'm sorry for being an idiot and not having my cell phone or key with me. I'm sorry for not thinking about the fact that if I walked you to your bus then I'd just have to walk back and that wouldn't be good, when I'm sure it would have been okay just to wake up my mom and dad and ask if you could stay with us. And I'm sorry that it ended up on the internet because that can't be good for your image. I'm sorry."

Jason shook his head, standing up and waving his hands around. "Don't worry about it. Jeff is going to call Erin and sort out some way of controlling our damage."

She turned to Jeff. "You're their manager, right? I'm sorry about this."

She'd said sorry so many times in the past minute that I'd lost count, and I still couldn't see how she had much to do with any of it. Sure, all the things she'd said were true. But if I blamed anyone it was those idiots who had nothing better to do than follow me around at midnight.

Caitlin exited the bedroom, and stood behind Mitchie awkwardly.

"So yeah... I'd better be going..." She ran a hand through her brown hair and sighed. "Thank you. Honestly, if anyone asks I'm telling them that you guys are pure gentlemen because you wouldn't let me walk home at midnight."

Jeff let out a short laugh at this, shaking his head as he walked to a more private area of the bus to talk to Erin. "Pure gentlemen. Sure."

I scowled at his back, watching Jason step toward her and pull her into a hug. Typical. He knew less about her than I did and yet he was already hugging her?

"It was nice meeting you Mitchie."

She smiled, though I could see she was still slightly nervous. From her eyes. "You too Jason."

Nate gave both her and Caitlin a short nod. "Yeah. It's been really cool to meet you. Maybe again?"

Mitchie nodded too, smiling at Nate. "That would be cool."

I hated how much these sounded like formalities. Like things you say to people when you don't really mean that you want to see them again. Like things you say when you know you won't. But I didn't want that. I wanted to have a conversation like the one we'd had last night again. The conversation where I felt like I was me for the first time in... what felt like forever. Which is why I found myself doing what I did next. Picking up a pen and scribbling my number down on a random piece of paper I found lying around - there didn't seem to be much on it, so I assumed it didn't matter much - I walked over to her. Mitchie. The girl who I barely knew yet felt like I knew so much more.

"Call me. Text me. Or both. It might be weird, but... yeah. I'd like it." I handed her the paper, taking in her bemused expression as I pressed it into her hand.

"Um... okay. Sure." She nodded, looking from me to the paper as though I was going to announce that I was joking. That seemed to be the general reaction though. Caitlin had her mouth hanging open, Nate was looking slightly shocked and Jason... well. I don't know what he was doing. He was behind me. Probably something totally unrelated.

"Really? Because I'll hold you to that." I joked, trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled thanks to all the extra people in the room.

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "And what are you gonna do if I don't, Pop Star?"

"I know where you live, Torres."

Mitchie rolled her eyes, folding the piece of paper and clutching it in her hands, seeing as she had nowhere else to put it. "Oh Shane Grey... you couldn't find your way back to the town centre. I can't see you finding one house that you've stumbled upon accidentally one time at midnight."

"Well then... looks like you'll have to call me." I shrugged, unsure about whether she would. I hoped she would. Any other girl would've. But she wasn't any other girl.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. And now I really have to go because my mom is worried. And Cait and I have plans." Stepping back from me with one last smile at both Jason and Nate, she threw a grin in my direction. "Thanks again. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

She and Caitlin walked over to the door, which granted was only a few steps away, but I honestly felt that I was losing something I might never get back.

Just before she jumped out of the bus, into the town that she knew so well and I knew so little, she looked back at me. "Might want to run a brush through that hair Pop Star. Wouldn't want to see you on Perez Hilton looking less than perfect."

And then she and Caitlin were gone, the door shutting just as they laughed at something that one of them had said.

I collapsed onto the couch once more, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I hoped she'd call. Or text. And I hoped that not many people realised it was her. And above all... I hoped that it wasn't the last I saw of Mitchie Torres. Because for some reason - and honestly, I didn't know why either - I wanted to.

"Is Shane okay?" Jason asked, whispering. I didn't know why. Not that I knew why Jason did most things Jason did.

Nate's voice drifted through my thoughts, and I could tell that he was deliberately speaking loudly just to do so. "You know that saying Jason. If you love something, let it go. If it's meant to be, it'll come back to you."


	7. It's Only Conversation

**Title: **Believe In Me

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie & Naitlin! Still open to ideas with Jason though!_

_**Authors Note: **__Here we go. Again, not great. I love the conversation between Mitchie and Shane though. And I'm working on fleshing out their relationship, which I think I kinda manage at the end of this chapter. It'll get better, I promise. But THANK YOU TIMES 100 for all your amazing reviews last chapter - you guys had me fully convinced not to hate it and I was grinning so much. Thank you! :)_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Camp Rock like a mouse doesn't own shoes._

_**Music: **__Love It When You Call - The Feeling_

**"Say what's the complication it's only conversation"**

"MICHAELA MARIE TORRES!"

I can't say that I hadn't been expecting it, to be honest. There was no way on Earth that I'd get away with being out all night, regardless of whether I'd been sneaking out or just innocently falling off the roof. I could see my future and it involved a lot of time in my room. With the window closed.

Still. Getting yelled at was a rarity for me, and I didn't really like the fact that it was about to happen. So I made my way to the kitchen as slowly as I possibly could.

Caitlin had decided that our mall plans would have to be rescheduled for a few reasons. One, I'd be so grounded from now on and so there was no point in me even trying to get to the mall. Two, she wanted to find out how many people had seen me online so that she could prepare me for school the next day, seeing as I'd probably have no computer access for a while. And three, she didn't really want to be witness to the grilling I was going to get. In her own words, 'I hear that too much from my own parents; I don't want to hear other people getting the same lecture'. To which I asked where the hell she was sneaking out to, because it sure wasn't to visit me.

Taking a deep breath, I made myself visible in the kitchen, finding my parents looking back at me sternly. The charade was dropped for all of two seconds as my mom hugged me, muttering that she was so relieved that I was okay. But it was back in no time, Dad pulling out a chair for me to sit on as they delivered my punishment. Which I didn't really deserve, but whatever.

"Care to explain?"

I opened my mouth, my nose wrinkled slightly. "What do you want explaining?" Possibly not the most tactful thing to say, but I had to be sure that they didn't just want me to explain how to work the TiVo or something. I mean, yeah, it was unlikely that they wanted that, but you had to make sure of these things, right?

"Michaela." Ouch. The full name. "Would you like to explain why your mother woke up this morning, went to collect your laundry and found your bed unslept in and your window open? Would you care to explain why your best friend called and didn't seem to know either? And would you care to explain why, when your mom turned on the TV to try and distract her from the fact that you were missing, your picture came on HotTunes as a girl who was 'hanging out' with Connect 3 in the early hours of the morning and then getting on their tour bus?"

I pulled a face. So they knew everything then. Well. Shrugging, I took a deep breath so that I could begin my explanation. As long as they didn't mind a long story, because I wasn't really up to summarising. "Okay. Well. You know that yesterday Cait got tickets to the Connect 3 concert in town, so we went to that. And at the end of the concert, Shane Grey looked right at me and that was weird, but I didn't really think anything of it and came home but I couldn't sleep, so I went out on the roof. Which okay I know is kinda dangerous, but I didn't think that I'd fall off, did I?"

My mom's gasp caused me to glance slightly in her direction, but I carried on anyway. Stopping before I fully explained might not have been a good idea - they might twist words somehow.

"So I was just sitting up there, listening to my iPod and my window was open so I could get back in and it was about one in the morning but I wasn't tired. I figured that when I got tired I'd just climb back through my window and nobody would be any the wiser that I'd been up there. But then I was singing and I saw someone hiding from view which was weird, but I asked if anyone was there and the next thing I know, I'm having this conversation with this _really _familiar sounding guy who is hiding in a tree at the bottom of my driveway. And I know what you're thinking, and no I didn't tell him my name or anything, plus I was on the roof so he'd have had a tough time kidnapping me or whatever." I paused for breath, trying to think of what to say next. Or how to say it next, because I wasn't going to lie. "And then I worked out that it was Shane Grey and while I stand by the fact that I'm not starstruck in any way, you have to admit that finding Shane Grey in your driveway would be a bit of a shock. So I lost my balance and fell off. I was fine! But then I realised that I'd left my key in the house and I couldn't get in and you guys were in bed..."

"So you went back to Shane's tour bus?"

Oh. Ouch. Shaking my head vehemently, I started to explain the rest. "No. Then he realised that he was lost and I offered to show him the way back, because I had just been there. Then he gave me some smartass answer and I yelled at him and he started acting like a normal human being, so I said I'd show him the way to his bus, seeing as I had nothing else I could do and I still wasn't tired and I wasn't going to yell at him for being rude and then just leave him to wander around town all night. So we walked back to the bus and talked and he showed me that he is capable of actual human emotions instead of just being a jackass, because when we got him back to his band and I was getting ready to walk back here, he realised that he couldn't let that happen because it was almost two in the morning or whatever and he didn't think it was safe. And obviously he couldn't accompany me back because then he'd be lost again and we'd be back at square one. And then he gave me his bed and he slept on the couch in the front of the bus and... that's the story." I shrugged lamely, unsure of whether that had worked. I mean, Dad's face had softened considerably when he heard that Shane hadn't wanted to let me walk home in the early hours of the morning, but that didn't mean that I was off the hook. It meant that he wasn't about to march around to where Connect 3's bus was (though it was probably gone by now, if they had another show to get to tomorrow...) and kill Shane Grey. Not that I was forgiven.

"Fine." Dad stated after a long silence. Or it had felt like a long silence. "Here's the deal: you're grounded. For not doing the sensible thing and waking us up. You could've asked if this Shane could have stayed with us, in the guest room - " Nice addition, Dad, I thought, but knew better than to say out loud. " - or if we could've dropped him back in the car."

I looked up at him, biting my lip. "For how long?"

"Two weeks. But, because it wasn't entirely your fault and because we're relieved that you're okay and because it wasn't as bad as we first anticipated..." He looked at Mom, as though wanting confirmation.

"You can keep your cell phone, computer privileges and TV. But no going out after school Mitchie."

Sigh.

Well, it wasn't that bad. It could have been a lot worse, I guess. And I never really got grounded. Plus, I had a ton of homework to do, so it meant that I'd actually get around to doing that.

"Okay." I nodded, standing up. "Okay. Can I go?"

My dad nodded, smiling at me slightly before pulling me into a hug. "We were worried Michaela."

"I'm sorry Dad," I said, hugging him back before breaking away and turning to Mom. "I'm sorry Mom. I didn't mean..."

She waved her hand at me. "I know. But you might want to be careful... you were on HotTunes."

I sighed as I backed out of the kitchen. "I know. Believe me, I know."

--

I had been staring at the same algebra problem for about an hour and it still wasn't making any sense to me. It wasn't really that I didn't get algebra, it was more the fact that my cell phone had rung so much that I'd ended up turning it off and hiding it in my bottom drawer. When I'd signed on AIM I'd instantly been flooded with more IMs than I'd ever received before and my computer had crashed. It seemed that everyone knew about the fact that I'd been seen with Shane Grey. And they all assumed the same thing.

The wrong thing.

Caitlin managed to get hold of me through the home phone and told me that she was doing damage control. Which consisted of her telling everyone that it wasn't me. I love Cait, but honestly, did she expect everyone to believe that I had some sort of twin who happened to know Connect 3?

Happened to have Shane Grey's number...

That was the other reason I couldn't really concentrate on my algebra homework. Every couple of minutes, my gaze had been pulled onto the paper that I'd left lying on my desk.

Was it really his number? Or was it just some joke he'd thought up? See if he could get the poor small-town girl to actually call the number that he'd set up for kicks. Part of me thought that that would be so typical Shane Grey. Messing people around. As though they weren't going to care, because he was this mega famous guy.

But then the other part... the other part thought that I'd seen another side of the infamous pop star. The side that not many people got to see. He was nice, and funny, and charming and seemed to actually care about his music. He was deep, for a shallow person, and thought about his answers to the questions I asked him. For about an hour, I felt as though I'd managed to get through to the Shane that the public didn't get to see. Someone who was amazing.

Yeah. I thought it. Shane Grey had the potential to be amazing.

And would an amazing person, who had revealed so much to me about what he was thinking and feeling, really play a practical joke like this on someone? Not a funny practical joke; one that had the potential to hurt someone? I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it.

But there was only one way to find out.

Grabbing my cell phone from my drawer, turning it on (113 new text messages, 59 missed calls, just for the record) and picking up the number that I'd nearly memorised by now, I punched the digits in, my thumb shaking only slightly. And then, before I could even change my mind about it, I pressed call and lifted the phone to my ear.

Please don't be a joke.

Please be the guy I met last night.

Please don't be messing me around.

"Hello?"

My heart stopped. It was him. It was definitely him. I'd heard his voice without seeing his face before, and now I'd know it anywhere.

"Hey, Shane?"

He was quiet on the other end of the line, but then I heard a door shut and knew that he'd obviously left whatever room he was in in the bus to go somewhere else. Somewhere quieter. "Mitchie?"

"That would be me," I laughed slightly. "I'm calling to see if you've run a brush through that hair yet. It was the last thing I saw of you, so it's been in my mind all day."

"My hair has been in your mind all day?" He laughed, a hint of teasing in his tone.

I felt my face heat up at his tone, wondering why the hell I'd let those words come from my mouth. Way to admit you'd been thinking about him, Mitchie. Covering up my mistake, I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me (and boy was I glad, especially if I was blushing). "Well, it was some bad hair."

"I guess that's what you get when you sleep on the couch," he replied.

"Couch hair." I stated, unnecessarily. "Um... actually, I was calling to check that you'd actually given me your number." Wait, what? Why did those words come out of my mouth?

He sounded confused when he spoke next. "What, did you think that I hadn't?"

"Well... no. I mean... it's just..." The words were just coming out of my mouth now and I couldn't seem to stop them at all. So when I actually gained control of my lips, I couldn't fix what I'd said because I didn't know.

"My reputation?" Shane didn't sound angry... more sympathetic.

I sighed. "Yeah. I guess so. I just... this doesn't happen to me. I don't meet celebrities and then have them want to stay in touch and actually give me their number so that I can call them. It... they should make a handbook on it."

He laughed at that. "Getting Celebrities Phone Numbers for Dummies? Um... not... that I think you're a dummy or anything... because I don't."

"I know. It's okay. It was pretty witty for a pop star." I teased, glad that he'd said something he thought was stupid too. Which sounds weird, but at least I wasn't the only one.

"Rock."

"Rock what? The casbah? The boat?" I feigned ignorance, pretending that I had no idea he wanted to be referred to as a rock star.

Another laugh. "The casbah? You listen to the Clash?"

He knew the Clash? "You _know _the Clash?"

"Well, not personally. But their songs... yes." Shane sounded amused, but not in a jerky way. Not in the way that I'd started off seeing last night. More in that 'I'm being annoying because you said something stupid' way. That everyone has to deal with sometimes. As opposed to the 'I'm being annoying because I'm a jerk' attitude.

"I would never have guessed."

"Says you. I wouldn't have guessed that the girl from the Connect 3 concert was actually a fan of punk music."

I scoffed, closing my algebra book and leaning back in my chair. "Give me the Sex Pistols over Connect 3 any day of the week."

"Even if the lead singer of Connect 3 happens to be much hotter than Johnny Rotten?" Shane asked, and I could picture the smirk on his face.

Time for another ego destroyer. "Whoever told you that was a liar."

"Burn. You've burned me, girl." I laughed at this; Shane was obviously slightly taken aback by the fact that I hadn't even hesitated before putting him down. "But can you confirm one thing for me?"

"That'll depend on what that one thing is."

"The girl on the roof yesterday said that she didn't lie, am I right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes."

"So what was that?" Shane asked, and I knew he honestly thought he had me. But if he wanted me to admit he was hot, he had another thing coming.

"... the truth?" I replied, glad that this wasn't a face-to-face conversation. My grin would have probably given me away.

"Mitchie, Mitchie, Mitchie."

My name sounded kind of better when he said it.

"Shane, Shane, Shane." I countered, shaking my head to get rid of my stray thoughts as I did so.

"You are all kinds of different," he said, suddenly serious.

What did that mean? I took a few seconds to contemplate it, forgetting that he was on the other end of the line as I tried to work out what that meant. All kinds of different? Different in a weird way? Different in a good way? Different to other people? Different to him? It was so cryptic. So unlike him - I figured he was probably a way blunter person usually. Said what he thought, that he wanted.

"So... did you get into trouble?"

I'd obviously been thinking about his comment for too long. And it was evidently the time to stop. Focus. "Grounded. For two weeks. But I'm allowed a cell phone, computer and TV because... well, I don't know why. Because I've never done anything like this before?"

"I still don't know what you did..." he said, and I could imagine that he'd gotten away with doing much worse things.

"Not the sensible thing apparently. I don't mind though. They care, and were worried which is why I'm grounded. They'd seen the pictures on HotTunes..."

He sighed, suddenly sounding apologetic. "Mitchie, I'm sorry."

I rolled my eyes, flattered that he actually seemed to care. "It's fine, Shane. It wasn't your fault. And hey, people are actually acknowledging that I exist now..."

"They didn't before?" Shane sounds like this is unbelievable.

I laughed without much humor. "Well... they asked me to move if I was blocking their locker. But not really. I had Cait. But I turned on my computer and got so many IMs that it crashed. And when I went to call you, I had 113 text messages."

"You're more popular than me," he said.

This time there was humor in my laugh. "Well, with your attitude that wouldn't be hard, would it?"

"Sheesh, girl. You're burning me like crazy."

There was a knock on my bedroom door, and I got up to go and open it. My mom was standing on the other side, looking at me inquisitively. She motioned a phone with her hands and I could tell that she was asking who I was talking to.

"Hold on a second," I said to Shane, before pressing the phone to my shoulder. "Yes, Mom?"

"Can you come down and help lay the table?" She asked, smiling at me. "Who's on the phone?"

I nodded. "I'll help in a second." Ignoring her second question, I put the phone back to my ear. "I have to go..."

"I heard. Well... stay in touch, okay? I have your number now."

I smiled. Sure, I didn't know why he wanted to speak to me. But he did, and that was the main thing. "Sure thing, pop star."

"Rock."

"Rock the casbah, I know."

He laughed, and I realised that I hadn't ever heard him laugh this much. Not even in interviews. "I'll be texting you as soon as I hang up."

"I have no idea why."

Mom was still standing there, watching me with a strange expression on her face.

"Because... because I can. Plus, I don't think two people can share what we have and not be friends."

This made me smile, though I don't know why. Immediate reaction. "What, a midnight swing?"

"Exactly. And you know you've always dreamed about being friends with me. I'm Shane Grey! So I'll talk to you later, friend."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll talk to you later, jerk."

"Seriously, why so determined to cause me injury?"

My eyes rolled again, as I got ready to hang up. There was still the fact that my mom was hanging in the doorway and making this uncomfortable. "I guess burning you is just too easy."

"I'll have to make it harder then," he replied.

"That you will. Bye, Shane."

"Bye Mitchie."

Hanging up, I looked down at the phone for a few seconds before I moved. Had that really just happened? I'd had a fun conversation with Shane Grey. And we'd been acting like friends. Like he said. I was friends with Shane Grey.

Weird.

"Everything okay Mitchie?" Mom asked me, an eyebrow raised.

I looked at her and nodded. Once. Twice. A third time for reassurance. For mom, or me? "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well, the table won't lay itself! What's for dinner?"

And slipping the cell phone into my pocket, I followed her out of the room and down the stairs.


	8. Wrote Every Note

**Title: **Believe In Me

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie and Naitlin. Jason is still open to ideas - maybe Ella?_

_**Authors Note: **__So between school work and my birthday celebrations (which got way more out of control than I thought they would - it was awesome. Surprise parties for the win!) I haven't had much time to just sit down at my computer and write you guys up a new chapter. But finally today I got that chance, and while I apologise for it not being the best, I hope it'll be good enough until I write the next one which will be much more eventful, I promise. And I'd just like to say 84 REVIEWS ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU GUYS ROCK SO MUCH. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. They all make my day. And for the record, italics is Shane's texts. Bold is Mitchie. I think it's kinda obvious, but just in case._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Camp Rock. Nor do I own any of the Jonas Brothers songs, unless you count the CD versions. But no, I didn't write them, as much as I'd have loved to._

_**Music: **__The Mixed Tape - Jack's Mannequin_

**"It's like I wrote every note with my own fingers"**

I left the bedroom, the grin written on my face as though it would never go away. She'd actually called! I hadn't actually thought she would. I mean, every other girl would've screamed upon reading my actual phone number and then called almost instantly in order to speak to me for a little longer (or all day, seeing as most would never want to hang up) or put it on the internet or something. But Mitchie Torres hadn't seemed like every other girl in the world. She had been more worried about being locked out than she was about me being in her driveway. That had not been something I was used to. So I couldn't be sure that she'd actually call. But I'd be lying if I would have been okay with never hearing from them again. That was not something I was prepared for. Nor was it something that I had to prepare for, because at exactly 6:24pm, my cell phone rung and up came an unfamiliar number. And I knew it was her. It had to be her. And it was. So I didn't have to worry about never hearing from her again. I mean, she obviously didn't hate me. Not if she was calling me.

"Who called?" Nate asked, that knowing smirk back on his face. Smartass. He knew full well, but wanted to see if I'd admit it.

I looked him right in the eye, just like he didn't expect me to, and told him the truth. One, he'd probably been eavesdropping and two, I wasn't ashamed. I was happy. Ecstatic about it even. "Mitchie."

He was obviously taken aback that I'd so willingly divulged this information, but recovered fairly quickly. "Oh. And what did she have to say?"

Okay, so I wasn't ashamed, but Nate didn't need to know that part. "She wanted to tell me to tell you that Caitlin told her that you were hotter in person."

He blushed, which satisfied me. Nothing made Nate blush quite like pretty girls liking him. Because Caitlin was pretty. Just not as pretty as Mitchie. And wait, did I just think that? Seriously? "No, she didn't. What did she really say?"

"She wanted to thank us again. And then she said that Caitlin found you hot." Well, if he wasn't going to drop the Mitchie subject, I wasn't going to drop the topic of Caitlin. I could probably keep talking about her all night if I had to. I'm sure Mitchie could supply me with the information I needed if I texted her and asked about it.

"Whatever Shane." Nate obviously knew me well enough to guess that I wouldn't give up the subject too easily. So he was the one to cave.

Collapsing down on the couch that I'd slept on, I pulled up the number that had just called me and saved it in my contacts. It was odd; in amongst all the famous people and my mom and dad, was the name Mitchie Torres. It would mean nothing if anyone got hold of my phone, but it meant the world to me. I clicked 'send message' and began to type out a text. I'd told her to expect it, after all.

_You'd better have called me on your cell phone, Roof Girl. Or else you'll have caused whoever's phone you borrowed to get some weird texts._

It took mere minutes for my phone to beep, telling me that I had a response. I opened up the message to read her reply.

_**Roof Girl? How imaginative. But don't worry, it's definitely me that you'll be bothering with text messages.**_

Even though I couldn't hear the tone of voice she used, I could almost hear the sarcastic hint and could imagine the laugh she gave after speaking. Which made me smile, oddly enough.

_Well Pop Star probably didn't take too many brain cells to think up, did it? And good, I'm not as concerned about bothering you. In fact, I kinda like it._

I looked up after pressing send, watching Jason walk out of his bedroom, reading a book. Upside down. Why even ask? Standing up, I made my way over to the stack of CDs we had but rarely listened to. I flipped through them, looking for a specific one. In the midst of this, my phone beeped again, pausing the search for my CD and looking at the screen.

_**I'll have you know, Pop Star was highly imaginative on my part. But it's good to know you care, jerk.**_

Laughing out loud, I began to reply.

_Considering I'm a __rock star, Pop Star must have been slightly imaginative. And I do care, Roof Girl._

I turned back to the CDs as the message whizzed to her phone. Where was it? I'm sure I had it on the bus somewhere. Looking over at Nate, who conveniently looked down at his laptop screen just as I did so, as though he hadn't been watching my every move in an attempt to psychoanalyse me. "Hey, Nate. Have you seen my Clash CD?"

He heard me and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by an incoming message on my phone.

I held up a hand, pausing him. "Hold that thought."

_**Did you hear that, Pop Star?**_

Hear what? What? What had I said to her again? Did that even make sense? What could I hear? Jason reading aloud, muttering to himself? Nate's laptop, whirring away? But she couldn't hear any of that. Unless she had amazing hearing, in which case I needed to watch what I said.

_Hear what?_

Her reply was almost instantaneous. How did she do that so fast?

_**The sound of me rolling my eyes.**_

I laughed again, unable to help it. Now I really was getting weird looks. Mostly from Nate, though Jason had glanced up for a few seconds. Before I had time to hit reply, she'd texted again.

_**I have dinner. I'll text back when I'm done, okay?**_

Replying, I attempted to be quite as quick as her, but kept spelling things wrong. Four minutes later, after fixing the spelling mistakes, I had a coherent reply and pressed send, looking back at Nate who had been waiting to finish speaking.

_What are you having for dinner? Anything I should be jealous of, because I'm having cereal._

"Jeez Shane. You barely know her, and already you're like a different person." Nate commented, more to himself than to me, and rolled his eyes.

I tried to think of a decent comeback - mainly a denial - but was interrupted by Jason.

"Your CD is in the kitchen cupboard with the spoons."

Turning to look at him, my eyebrows furrowed. "This is possibly a stupid question, but why?"

"Jeff put it there. Wanted to see how long it took you to find it." Jason shrugged, going back to his book.

I scowled, stomping off to the cupboard to get it. As I did so, a reply came through.

_**The world famous Torres burger. You jealous?**_

Only one word came to mind as I replied and grabbed my CD and guitar and headed off into the bedroom, to drown myself in music and write a song. One that I'd been mentally constructing all day.

_Very._

_---_

It was four hours and many screwed up bits of paper later that I had something I was half happy with. I'd written numerous verses and choruses and then decided to go in a completely different and abandoned that one. But finally I had the makings of a really good song. A really good one.

Of course, I'd spent some of the time texting Mitchie. And some of the time reminding myself of the awesome that was the Clash album. But the majority of time had been spent with my guitar, writing a song that I knew the label would probably wreck beyond belief. And once I'd realised that this song - the song that okay, I'd only written part of so far, but that I'd probably spend days writing to make perfect - would probably never actually be heard by anyone that mattered, I let out a roar of frustration and threw the guitar to the ground. It didn't break, but the clang it made as it connected with the floor was enough to satisfy me.

"Shane?" Obviously I'd been loud enough for everyone else to hear me and next thing I knew, Nate was standing in the doorway of my room, looking from me to the guitar on the floor. "What did the guitar ever do to you?"

Throwing my hands up in the air, I groaned and sat back down on my bed. "It helped me write the beginnings of an amazing song and then I realised that it would be warped into yet another manufactured, boy-band, up-tempo, cookie-cutter, _pop _song. And while I have nothing against people who produce that sort of music, it isn't me. I don't want it to be me."

Nate sighed, sitting on the floor opposite me. He wasn't yelling. That was a first. Instead, he picked up the guitar and handed it to me, gesturing for me to play. "Play it."

"What?" I asked. Why wasn't he yelling? He usually got all annoyed about me even bringing this up, because as far as he was concerned, we couldn't change it. We might as well live with it. Why was now any different?

"You heard me. Play it."

I shook my head, knowing what would come if I played it. "It's not done..."

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised slightly. "Are you kidding me? Since when has that ever stopped us? Come on. Play."

Sighing, I adjusted the guitar properly so that I could play it and ran through the lyrics one more time in my head. Once I sung this to him, there was no going back. I'd be in for hideous amounts of ridicule. I'd known Mitchie one day and yet here I was, already inspired to write a song about her? A song like _this _about her?

But so what?

Who cares if Nate and Jason make fun of me? This is the first song I've written that I've... connected with, for a long time. I gave up writing songs like this when I realised that nobody would ever hear my versions anyway. But then I meet Mitchie and suddenly I'm writing songs like this again? Who cares if I'm laughed at? It's real, for once.

"Does Jason want to hear it too?" I asked, sincerely.

Nate looked at me strangely for a second, and then nodded, calling to Jason to join us. "Hey, Jase? Come in here for a second!"

Jason was there in seconds, standing in the doorway and looking down at both of us.

"Shane has a song to share."

And that was it. My cue to start.

The chords that I'd become so familiar with over the last few hours echoed around the small space and I did the cliché thing of losing myself in the music. Jason and Nate practically disappeared, for all I knew.

"_Called you for the first time yesterday_

_Finally found the missing part of me_

_Felt so close but you were far away_

_Left me without anything to say_

_Now I'm speechless_

_Over the edge, I'm just breathless_

_I never thought that I'd catch this love bug again_

_Hopeless, head over heels in the moment_

_I never thought that I'd get hit by this love bug again_

_I can't get your smile out of my mind_

_I think about your eyes all the time_

_You're beautiful but you don't even try_

_Modesty is just so hard to find_

_Now I'm speechless_

_Over the edge, I'm just breathless_

_I never thought that I'd catch this love bug again_

_Hopeless, head over heels in the moment_

_I never thought that I'd get hit by this love bug again"_

It felt awkward to just end it there, but it was all I had. After that my inspiration had just dried up and I'd lost it. But that didn't matter, because what I did have pleased me. And from the look on Nate and Jason's face, it wasn't half bad.

"That was..." Nate began, obviously searching for the words.

"AWESOME!" Jason butted in for him, the look on his face showing the glee.

I grinned at him, not able to remember the last time I'd loved his sheer hyperactive personality so much. "Really?"

"Yeah dude! That was amazing." He nodded so vigorously that his head was in danger of falling off, but nobody seemed to mind that.

I looked at Nate, waiting for his reaction. "It was... really good Shane. Really good."

Well. That was a relief. And no jokes so far.

From the floor, my phone beeped and I lunged down to pick it up, without thinking.

_**So do you realise it's nearly midnight and we've been texting each other for almost five hours?**_

I looked at the little time display on my phone and saw that she was right. Wow. Time flies when you're writing songs and texting girls that you've only just met but feel as though you've known for your entire life.

_I guess we have. Funny._

When I looked up from my reply, Jason and Nate were talking, though the conversation seemed a little too forced. Yeah, right. They hadn't just been watching me. Of course not.

_**Hysterical. But that means that I have to go to bed now, because it's school tomorrow and I can't wait to hear the latest gossip. I've had to delete over 100 messages from random people at school.**_

_I'm sorry Mitchie. I didn't mean for this to happen._

It sucked that she was going to be recognised now. People were going to know her and assume things and it was horrible. I was used to it. I didn't like to think of her going through it though. She was still in high school. I'm sure it was tough enough without everyone thinking you'd... yeah.

_**I know. It's totally fine. I'll make it through! I mean, people usually ignore me. Might be a step up.**_

_Keep that head held high. If anyone gives you stick, let me know, I'll get someone to hunt them down. And I'll text you all day._

"Want to come and watch a movie Shane?" Jason asked, looking at me as I replied.

I looked from him to Nate, processing it. It had been a long time since they'd actually asked me to do anything. We used to watch movies all the time on tour, before we realised how rubbish our record label was making us. But why were they bothering?

Wait. Why did I care why they were bothering? They were. And surely that was the point.

My phone beeped once more, and I looked down at it, stalling.

_**Psh, okay then Shane. I'll let you know if anyone needs hunting. But thank you anyway. Night!**_

_No problem Mitchie. Goodnight._

Then, looking up at my bandmates, I nodded. "Sure."


	9. I'm Your Friend

_**Title: **__Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie and Naitlin. Jason is still open to ideas - maybe Ella?_

_**Authors Note: **__I literally squealed when I got my 100th review - that's seriously amazing, people. I immediately started writing this, just for you because I want to be able to actually write Mitchie's birthday on the 5th of November and I have an idea for what to do for that one. But it could mean an update every day, if I can possibly arrange that. If I get busy again... then I'll think of something else. I also made a mistake in chapter 1 (though nobody seemed to notice) and so went back and fixed that. Basically I'd said that it was Friday night in that one, and then forgotten that detail and carried on as though it was Saturday night. Now it's definitely Saturday. And that was all I had to say! Thanks for your reviews and nice words!_

_**Disclaimer: **__Me no ownie Camp Rock. _

_**Music: **__Down We Fall - Drake Bell_

_**"Kept it together today, by the way, I'll no longer ignore you, I wanted to show you again I'm your friend"**_

Caitlin's car pulled up in my driveway the next morning, and I ran out of my house, yelling a goodbye to Mom as I shut the door. I'd been up so late texting Shane that I'd totally overslept, hence the rushing. I still had to do my makeup in the car. And eat. Well, this was just great. The one day that people would be looking at me and noticing what I was doing, was the one day I looked like crap. I pulled open the passenger door and got in, running a hand through my straight hair and sitting back in the seat.

"You look terrible."

I looked at her sideways, not even bothering to respond. Thanks Caitlin. What a thing to say. Straightening out my stonewash jeans and the t-shirt that I'd grabbed from my closet (thank goodness it wasn't dirty or ripped or anything) I pulled my eyeliner from my bag and rested my elbow on my knee, trying to stay steady as Cait put the car into gear and started driving.

"So, would you like me to tell you how it's gonna be?" Caitlin asked after a few seconds, and I remembered that she was the one talking to people and trying to do damage control.

Not taking my gaze from the wing mirror as I traced around my eyes, I replied. "That would be nice."

"Well... they all think you had sex with him," Caitlin said.

"OW!" I yelled, jumping up and clutching my eyes. "Ow, ow, ow. Poked myself in the eye. What?"

Seriously, bluntness was Caitlin's speciality. And she couldn't have broken the news to me in a more blunt way. They... what... of course they did. What else would people think? The paparazzi hadn't been inside the bus, or heard the conversation before that. They didn't care about that. They got their picture, they got their rumors and they didn't care whether it was true or not.

"Most people at school are almost certain that sweet, innocent Mitchie Torres isn't so sweet and innocent anymore... at least, that's what I got from the many conversations I had last night." It was almost like it didn't even phase her. It phased me. I did not want people thinking that! It was nobody's business anyway. Ugh, this was so not fair.

Waiting for my eye to stop watering so that I could finish my makeup, I tilted my head back and looked up at the roof of the car. It still hurt. Warning: never apply makeup while speaking to Caitlin about what people think about the pictures of you going into Shane Grey's tour bus at some ungodly hour in the morning. Never.

I looked back in the mirror, finished the black line around my eyes with a flick and then pulled out my mascara and lipgloss, just to finish off. Everything else could be left.

When my makeup was finished, I turned to Caitlin, determined to find out more about what to expect. "So what... they just told you this? They actually think that?"

"Apparently so. It's going to be... awkward. But you know, I'm here and I know the truth and hey, at least people will know who you are, right? And it won't be all that bad, I bet. They'll just whisper about you. You know how people are; too afraid to actually come right out and ask something. And if anybody does... well you can just tell them the truth."

Wow, she was making me feel a whole lot better. Seriously, is there a class for making people feel better? Because if so, they need to employ Caitlin to teach it.

I groaned and sat back in my seat, my eyes closed tight. I didn't want to get to school.

My phone beeped from my pocket, and I took it out, glancing at it quickly.

_Have fun at school! Remember, I'm up for hunting people down if it comes to that. I'm sorry again._

I smiled at the message, biting my lip as I thought of something to say in reply. Who would have thought that Shane Grey would be texting me as though we were lifelong friends?

_**I'm keeping that in mind. I'll be fine. Six hours and then it's over. Time flies when you're being talked about.**_

Remembering that I still had to eat, I pulled the cereal bar that I'd hurriedly grabbed from my kitchen cupboard and peeled off the wrapper, taking a bite.

_Six hours will go by in no time. Call me whenever. I have sound check, but I'm almost certain a phone call from you will be more important. At least I haven't had one of those every day for about a month._

"Since when did you get so popular?" Caitlin asked, glancing over at the phone that was balanced on my knee as I ate my food. "I thought I was the only one who ever texted you."

"I got so popular when I had sex with Shane Grey," I shot back, grinning at her and pausing my eating for a second to reply to him.

_**What makes you think I'll have anything to say to you, Pop Star?**_

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "That would be about right. But seriously, who's texting you?"

"I am offended that you would find it so hard to believe that someone other than you was texting me."

"I am offended that you, my best friend in the whole world, won't tell me who is texting you."

"I am offended that you're so interested."

"Okay. We're both offended. Big deal. C'mon Mitchie, who is it?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her plea; she'd even taken her eyes off the road to actually give me that puppy dog face that she always tries to pull when she isn't getting her own way. It never works. "You really want to know?"

"No. I'm pretending."

_I'll just call you then. But seeing as I have no idea of your schedule, I might call in a class and your teacher may read out the screen of your phone as a punishment and then there'll be more rumors. Is that what you want?_

"Oh. Okay then. Cool." She had to have expected that answer, she really did.

"Mitchie!"

I laughed, rolling my eyes and shoving the empty wrapper in my bag, picking up my phone. "Shane."

_**Maybe it is.**_

"Shane?!" Caitlin cried, shocked but obviously not shocked enough to not be able to park almost perfectly in one of the spaces in the parking lot.

I grinned, rolling my eyes at her. "He gave me his number, remember?"

"And why have I not been informed of this recent development? You're still conversing with him? Wow. Wow! You've only just met him and already you're actually... did you notice it?"

I looked at her, my eyebrow raised. "Notice what?"

"He didn't seem like that around you. You know, that egotistical jerk that every seems to say he is. When he was standing with you on that bus it was like..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

_You may regret saying that, Roof Girl._

"... like what?" I have to admit, it intrigued me. How was she going to end that sentence? What was he like around me? I mean... I'd noticed it to some extent. He seemed nicer. Less like this huge pop - or rock, depending on who you were - star and more like an actual human being. I liked it. But what did other people see? I may have just been biased.

She sighed, looking around at the other students milling around the parking lot. "Like... like you changed him. Like he's changed. And he's only changed around you. Does that make sense?"

I was quiet, staring at the words he'd written on my screen until they blurred in front of my eyes. Part of me thought she was right. Ever since he'd looked me in the eyes at that concert... ever since I'd put him in his place in the early hours of the morning... he'd been different. Sure, he still had an ego. Sure, he still said some potentially jerky things. But for the most part... he seemed nicer. He laughed. And I'd seen the look on Nate's face when he'd offered to let me have his bed. It was surprise. Why? The only reason could have been that Shane wasn't the type of person who would usually do that, regardless of the situation. So why had mine been any different? Would he have done the same had it been Caitlin instead of me?

But then the other part... thought that all of the above was stupid. I mean, _come on. _Countless people had tried to get through to him. Nate. Jason. Probably even his mom and dad. And if they couldn't do it... how would a plain 17-year-old from Massachusetts manage it?

After a few minutes, I looked up, shrugging. "I've _changed _him? He's known me for less than 48 hours, Cait. It's just... a coincidence, is all. Now come on, I might as well throw myself into the shark infested waters now. Sooner I do it, the sooner I get out, right?"

She looked like she was going to say something else, but I opened the car door and got out before she could utter another word. As soon as I did, I felt a million different people turn to look in my direction. Some whispered to each other, their eyes never leaving my face. In fact, as I looked around, I couldn't see anybody that _wasn't _looking my way.

Oh boy.

Taking a deep breath, however shaky it might have been, I looked down at my phone that was awaiting me to press reply.

_**Bring it on, Pop Star.**_

No point in making him feel guilty. It wasn't his fault.

And then, with my reply zooming off to alert him that he'd received a text message, I put my phone back in my jeans pocket and made my way to the entrance of school, attempting to ignore the muttering that seemed to follow me.

Great. This was going to be fun.

---

Turns out, Shane didn't interrupt any of my lessons.

I'd been plagued with whispers all day, spending more time slouched behind my desk than I had all my school life put together. But until lunch, nobody had actually confronted me about it. And I kind of wished it had stayed that way.

I'd been getting my tray from the lunch queue and was just embarking with Caitlin on our daily search for an empty table, when Rochelle McQueen stepped out in front of me, her pointy Prada boots stomping down precariously close to my toes in my Converse. And when I'd tried to oh-so-subtly dodge out of the way, one of her evil minions had prevented me from doing just that.

"You think you're so great, don't you Mitchie?"

Ugh. Here it went. "Um... not really."

"No. You're not. Don't think everybody doesn't know why Shane Grey picked you. He picked you because he knew you'd be easy, and because he didn't want to get attached."

I opened my mouth, stuttering slightly. This was not what I was used to. Pop stars at one in the morning, I could handle. Bitchy girls at lunchtime when there's an audience of the whole school... yeah, not so much. "I didn't sleep - "

"Because let's face it. You're not Shane Grey's type. You're ugly and boring and your dress sense... let's not even get started. So whatever. People are buzzing with the information that you managed to hook the biggest rock star around, but I'm not going to hesitate to correct them. You haven't hooked him at all. He hooked you, and you were just another one night stand to him, okay? So if you were planning on gloating... don't. Nobody thinks you're worth it anyway."

And with that, she arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows, knocked my lunch tray from my hands with one swift motion and sashayed off out of the cafeteria, leaving everyone staring at me and me without a clue of what to do next. I just stared at what remained of my lunch on the floor, feeling Caitlin's hand on my shoulder.

That was when my phone rang. Shrugging her off, I made my way out of the cafeteria as fast as I could, trying to ignore the looks of sympathy or contempt from the rest of the student body as I did so. This was not what I'd have expected. It was worse. I'd imagined everyone to be jealous - even though what they were thinking wasn't even halfway truthful - but not... not that. Not this.

Caitlin hadn't followed me, which I was grateful for, and so when I got out to the entrance of school and threw myself on the top step, pulling my still ringing phone from my pocket, I could let out the strangled sob I'd been holding in for minutes.

I didn't even pay attention to the screen, just held the phone to my ear and used my free hand to wipe my eyes, which had filled up amazingly fast. "Hello?"

"Mitchie? Are you okay? What's wrong?" Shane's voice was full of concern, and I was immediately remind of my conversation with Caitlin earlier.

I sniffed once more and then proceeded to try and explain. "Whispering... jealous... people always talking... I was getting lunch and... I'm ugly and boring and everyone thinks... and I'm not even worth it okay, so why are you calling me?"

It didn't make much sense at all, but it was the most coherent version I could come up with at that second. I hated that I let it bother me. I hated that Shane was hearing how much it bothered me. I hated how people could think that it was okay to speak to other people like that.

"Mitchie..." he sighed. "What happened?"

I shook my head, even though that was pretty much pointless. He couldn't see me. "No..."

"Mitchie. Something happened. And believe it or not, I want to try and help, because I don't like... I don't like hearing you upset like this."

"I just... I'm..." I wiped my face again, seeing from the black on my hands that the makeup I'd applied in the car that morning was officially history. Ugh. I sighed, not wanting him to feel responsible for any of this, but then began to tell the story properly. To give him his credit, he didn't interrupt at all as I rambled on and on about everything that had happened and cried a bit more (which I still wasn't happy about).

It was only when I'd completely finished that he spoke again, and he was oddly quiet. "Don't... don't ever listen to her. Don't listen to her Mitchie."

"Why not? She's right! Not about... any of the one night stand stuff, but about... everything else."

I didn't want this. I didn't want him to hear me like this; feeling sorry for myself. It sounded so stupid and pathetic. And okay, they were thoughts that entered my mind, especially at times like this, but I didn't...

"I promise you, Mitchie. She's not right. You're not ugly or boring. You're..." he trailed off. "You're neither of those things. And I'm not lying."

I took a few seconds to try and work out whether I believed him when he said that he wasn't. And I came to the conclusion that I did. He was Shane Grey - infamous jerk and probably not one to beat around the bush - and what did he have to gain from making me feel better.

"Thanks. I'm sorry. I just... it's been a long day and I still have two hours of it to go and people are just... people suck."

Shane sighed. "I'm sorry about all this Mitchie. But Jeff said that he thinks he has a way of making it easier, because I've been asking about it non stop. So I'll do everything I can..."

"I'll do anything," I immediately said, not thinking about it until the words had left my mouth. "I mean... yeah. It's..."

"Hard. I know."

Footsteps behind me attracted my attention, and I turned to find Caitlin standing there, her hands in her pockets and watching me. I smiled slightly, wiping my hand across my face again to try and improve the black streaks that were probably all over it.

"Caitlin's here. I have to go. I'm sorry for... freaking out."

"It's alright. Just promise me you won't let anybody get to you?"

I nodded - again, stupid because he couldn't see me - and then verbally agreed. "Promise. Thanks for... being reassuring."

"I'm not reassuring very often, so when I can be. As long as I didn't completely suck at it."

I laughed slightly. "You definitely didn't. Um... I'll talk to you later?"

"Yes. Because now I feel like I'll have to check in later and check that you're okay."

Rolling my eyes, I ignored Caitlin who had just worked out who I was probably talking to and was mouthing stuff at me. "I'll be fine. I'll survive."

"Awesome. I like you alive."

"I like me alive too."

The silence that followed was seconds too long and I was just searching for some way to end the conversation that wouldn't be awkward when he broke the silence for me.

"Well... I'll let you get back to lunch?"

"Yeah. And I'll let you get back to sound check?"

I could tell that he rolled his eyes - call it a hunch - before replying. "Ah, yes. It'll be riveting."

"That's the spirit," I giggled slightly. Yes, giggled. I don't know why either, so...

"I'll speak to you later, Mitch."

Mitch. Nobody ever called me Mitch.

"Yeah. Bye Shane."

I hung up, though I didn't really want to, and focussed on Caitlin who was looking at me with a smile on her face. She sat down next to me on the top step and sighed.

"Rochelle is a bitch. Everyone knows it and nobody believed what she said. And if they did, they don't deserve to live, so I'll hunt them down for you."

I laughed. "You are not the first person to offer to do that."

She was silent for a few seconds, leaning back on her hands. "He's a nice guy now?"

I hesitated, looking down at the concrete that I was sitting on. "I think he's always been a nice guy. He just... got lost. And is only just beginning to find himself again."

"What a coincidence. He begins to find himself the moment he meets my amazing best friend who had an almost hatred for him up until the moment she met him. Funny old world."

I rolled my eyes at her, standing up and wiping my eyes one more time, for good luck. "Shut up Caitlin. Or I'll get him to tell Nate all about your Nate shrine in your closet."

"What?" Her face from where she was still sitting on the step was full of confusion. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips. "I don't have a Nate shrine!"

Grinning as I made my way back into the school, I shrugged. "Well I know that... but Nate doesn't."

"Michaela!"

I laughed, feeling decidedly more cheerful as I walked back into the hallway. But whether that was because of Caitlin's reaction, or because of... something else... I didn't know. I didn't want to know...

Not much anyway.


	10. Situation Number One

_**Title: **Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie and Naitlin. Jason is still open to ideas - maybe Ella?_

_**Authors Note: **__I could keep telling you over and over how much love I have for you guys, but I think you all already know that. So this'll be a short author's note and I'll just say, here's the 10th chapter for you. Hope you like it!_

_**Disclaimer: **__Camp Rock = all Disney's. Hello Beautiful = all Jonas'. Though I did change one little bitty word. But that word doesn't belong to me either so..._

_**Music: **__Situations - Jack Johnson_

_**"Situation number one, it's the one that's just begun"**_

"Why does this matter so much Shane?" Erin asked, her hands clasped together as she surveyed me across the coffee table we had in the bus.

As soon as Mitchie had hung up the phone the day before, I had called Erin and asked - or more like begged - her to sort it out. To make things easier on Mitchie and help squash the rumors that were causing her to cry. She had cried and that had done something to me. I'd hated hearing her so upset and when it was partially down to me? That made me hate myself. If I had kept walking that night and she had never met me, it would have just been another typical school day for her. She wouldn't have been crying.

The fact that someone actually stoof up and said those things to her made my blood boil, metaphorically speaking. The idea that someone had said she was ugly and boring and not worth it to her face was disgusting. Mitchie Torres was anything but ugly. She was beautiful and her smile (even though I'd seen it only a limited number of times) lit up the place. She stood out. She'd stood out in amongst all those pretty girls at that concert. And boring she was not. I mean, I'd met her when she was sitting on a roof. Boring people do not sit and sing on roofs. And as far as being worth it... she was.

I'd hated seeing her so upset over such... stupid, untrue comments. I wanted to fix things. Everything.

So, in effect, that was the answer to Erin's question. Mitchie Torres was the sole reason this mattered to much. But I couldn't say that, so I just shrugged, hoping she didn't decide to launch a full blown investigation with lights shining into my eyes and a ton of ruthless questions thrown my way. "I know how it feels. And I want to help."

Her eyes met mine for a few seconds, and I tried my hardest not to blink, but I gave in and she looked away at Jeff. "What do you suggest?"

Our manager shrugged. He wanted me kept happy. If I was happy (as far as he was concerned anyway) I was this Shane. A non-argumentative, model member of a cookie cutter boy band. "Anything. If he's happy, I'm happy."

I forced back a scoff at this and sat forward. "I just want her schoolmates to stop treating her like she's done something wrong. I want Perez Hilton and the like to stop saying I slept with her. We'll do anything. Say anything. _I'll _do anything."

Another look from Erin, only she broke it this time, a smile playing on her lips as she looked from me to Jeff. Nate and Jason were at the sound check that I was blowing off to sort this out. "I might have a plan. But I'll tell you right now, it won't stop the rumors. Now that they've started, nothing will stop them because that's how it goes. It might work everything else out though. Providing Jeff is willing to give his approval."

Approval? For what? He looked as confused as I did though, so at least I wasn't the only one. This didn't seem to matter to her though, and she kept talking.

"And her parents... probably the school too. But I think... everyone will be much happier. We're in Rhode Island, right? How long would it take to get back to where she lives?"

I was still confused.

"We could be there and still on track for the last few shows. Day off tomorrow and then we have to be in New Jersey. A few days off there while they go family visiting and then down into New York... two weeks left in total. But I think we could make it back to Massachusetts if we had to..." Jeff said, slowly to begin with. He was obviously doing the same as me; trying to work out what Erin's plan was.

This seemed to be the answer she wanted. But why? "Why?"

She looked at me, seeming to be battling with whether to say something about what was going on in her head and biting her lip. "I need to talk to Jeff before I tell you anything, I think, Shane."

Jeff looked pleased at this, nodding. "Go and join Nate and Jason and we'll come and get you when we've sorted something out. Okay?"

In usual circumstances, I would've kicked up a fuss; demanded that I be let in on the plan. But that usually got me nowhere and I wanted to get somewhere this time. To help Mitchie. From what I'd heard, Erin was thinking about going back to Cohasset? I'd get to see her again? Weighing it up, I decided that that was worth being kept out of the loop for few hours.

So, without any argument, I got up and left the bus, wondering what I was missing. Both on the other side of the door that I'd just closed and in Cohasset. Because that small town seemed to be where my mind resided a lot these days.

And I didn't really mind.

Walking up the steps and into the hall that my bandmates were rehearsing in, I stood in the doorway while Nate finished playing a song and making sure the guitars were tuned properly. We'd done so many of these that it was like a ritual now. We all knew what we were doing and how to do it. Routine.

"Well, look who it is. Finally decide to show up?" Nate spotted me, rolling his eyes in my direction. If he hadn't been grinning while he spoke, I would've probably gotten mad. But we were finally starting to act like we used to... jeopardising that didn't seem worth it.

I nodded, stepping out of the door frame and down the rows of seats that would later be occupied with hundreds of people. All wanting to see me. Some of them thinking the same as Mitchie, probably. That I was an egotistical jerk. I wondered if any of them had seen the pictures online. If any of them had been responsible for the comments that had filled the pages below them (which I'd been reading in horror ever since... and I hoped that Mitchie hadn't). "Yeah, I waited until I heard you finishing the song and then figured I wouldn't have to stick around for too long."

"Lazy, lazy Shane," Nate shook his head. It had been a long time since we'd had an interaction like this. Just poking fun at each other because we could and not out of spite or anything of the such.

"Aww, you guys!" Jason's voice piped up from his side of the stage, a grin on his face. "This is so awesome! It's like old times!"

There was an awkward silence - I didn't know what to say to that. It was, but that was all I knew. I didn't know why exactly, or what specifically had changed...

Clearing my throat, I jumped up the steps and onto the stage, grabbing one of the many guitars that we had lined up, just in case something happened while on stage. Like a string broke, or the guitar was knocked out of tune. "I got kicked out of the bus, so I don't think I'm allowed back in until they come and get me..."

Nate and Jason knew the deal, so I didn't have to go into much detail. But that didn't stop them asking questions, and I was glad it didn't. I didn't really want to sit in silence until Jeff and Erin decided to enlighten me with their amazing plan. That possibly involved me seeing Mitchie again.

"Why did they kick you out?"

I looked up at Nate as I sat on the edge of the stage, the guitar in my hands and my fingers forming a G chord on the fretboard. "Something about Jeff's approval. I was kinda confused with the cryptic-ness of the conversation."

"So... there is no plan right now?" Nate asked, watching me as I strummed random chords on the guitar that he'd tuned.

"Oh, there's a plan. I just don't know what it is yet, because there was some need for Jeff's approval. But he'd damn well better give this approval because I'll do anything I have to."

Nate didn't say anything and neither did Jason. I didn't look away from my fingers which were rapidly moving to pick out different chords to see what they were doing, and whether they were using some sort of secret language to communicate to each other. If they even did that.

I didn't even really care anymore. Everything that I thought I was; everything that I was sure was never going to change about my life was changing. Had already changed. And I wasn't complaining about that, not at all. But I couldn't help but wonder if it was too good to be true. Was I really getting all protective over a girl that I barely knew, who possibly didn't even want to get to know me? Why would I do that?

I knew why. It was obvious why. Nate knew why. Heck, even Jason knew why.

Mitchie Torres was more than 'just some girl' to me. She'd been the first 'fan' to actually come out and say those things to me. She didn't treat me as though I were some sort of celebrity royalty - if anything, that made her all the more sarcastic when I was around. She was honest and all too willing to call me out when I was being a jerk. And while it might sound crazy - actually feeling like this for someone who calls you a jerk on a regular basis is pretty weird - I like her. Even though I've met her face-to-face for mere hours and only had a few conversations since then... I feel like I know her. Like I want to know her.

"Hey, that sounds good." Jason's voice cut into the music that had filled the hall, and I stopped playing momentarily to look at him. I hadn't really been paying attention to what I was playing; letting the music control me instead of the other way around.

Nate nodded, grabbing one of the guitars and sitting down opposite me, in the one of the seats on the front row. "Keep going."

I tried to remember what I did, but couldn't quite get it. Luckily, while he might not be the brightest spark, Jason picks up music really quickly. So within seconds he had his guitar and was playing what I'd been playing minutes before. Which left me to think up some lyrics...

Closing my eyes, I thought about what I'd been thinking about to come up with the melody, as subconsciously as it was and just let that take me wherever it wanted.

_"Hello beautiful, how's it going?_

_I hear it's wonderful, in Massachusetts_

_I've been missing you_

_It's true_

_But tonight_

_I'm gonna fly_

_Yeah tonight_

_I'm gonna fly_

_'Cause I could comb across the world and see everything_

_And never be satisfied_

_If I couldn't see those eyes"_

"Sounding good boys!" Jeff's voice rung from across the other end of the hall and my eyes snapped open.

If we sounded so good, how come that sort of music was exactly what he and the record label wouldn't let us produce? How come he manipulated every word we wrote and turned it into something that no self-respecting musician would be proud of?

I was just opening my mouth to say all of these things to him, and start World War Three or something, when Nate spoke. He'd obviously seen the anger flare in my eyes and wanted to avoid a scene. We'd done so well avoiding scenes the past few days.

"What's the news, Jeff?"

Erin stepped forward from where she'd been walking behind our manager and smiled at me, and then at Nate and Jason. "How would you boys feel about a little detour after the show tonight?"

"Sure. Where?" Nate asked, looking at me still, examining me to see if I'd go and say something stupid and ruin it. My anger had calmed down slightly though. This meant that there was a plan and that Jeff had agreed to whatever it was and... was I going to get to see Mitchie again?

Erin sat down next to Nate, so that we were all facing each other as though in a conference or something. "Well... the only way we're going to manage getting the worst of the rumors - such as the one that insinuates Shane and this Mitchie girl slept together - is to put out a truth of some sort. And after talking to Jeff, we feel that the only way to convince people of this truth being true..."

"What truth?" I butted in, wanting to be sure I knew everything before I started nodding and getting too involved. And they were confusing me with the word truth and being true and all that stuff. I needed it spelt out, loud and clear.

Not... that I'm stupid. I just did.

"That you and Mitchie are close friends and she came to join you on tour. You guys had hung out and then instead of walking her home, you gave her your bed in the tour bus. No illegal activities going on; just two friends meeting up."

Oh. Well that sounded a lot more like what happened than what everyone else was saying. Minus some of the details.

"How will that help?" I asked. People were still going to get on at her at school. You can _say _something isn't true, but that didn't mean others had to believe it.

"Well... when they see you and Mitchie hanging out during the remainder of the tour..." Erin started, but she didn't get a chance to finish because I'd jumped up.

"What? She's coming on tour with us?" It was definitely more of an excited outburst than a defiant one, which wasn't something that Jeff, Nate and Jason were used to. However, only Jeff looked surprised by it. Even Erin had a slight smirk on her face.

"I checked it out with Jeff. We'll have to ask her parents, of course, and the school. But I just think that if people see you guys acting like friends, they're more inclined to believe that you didn't have a one night stand. When you're in another state and it looks like you'll never meet again... that's when it looks bad. But if everyone says that they're okay with the idea - and that is a big if, Shane, because they might not like it at all - then yes. She could be coming on tour with you."

Sitting back down, I gave a shrug. "Okay. Cool." I didn't really fool anyone, I knew that much. But I didn't mind. Because here it was, the opportunity to see her again. The opportunity to work out whether all of this... everything working out and going right for me for once... finding inspiration whenever I thought about her... wanting to help someone other than myself for once... I wanted to find out whether it was all because of her.

"We have to work out bed situations..." Jeff warned.

"She can have mine again. I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

"And there's to be no more midnight walks..."

"I think I can manage that."

"And Nate and Jason have to be okay with it too..."

My head snapped around to look at Nate and Jason, who were both looking back at me. "Are you guys okay with it?"

Jason nodded, enthusiastically. "Yeah! Mitchie was cool. It'll be fun!"

"Nate?" I asked, hoping he said yes. You never knew with Nate. One minute he was worried about the band's future and the next he actually wanted to write the songs I wanted to write. Maybe he'd decide that having her around could damage Connect 3's reputation even more.

He paused, not taking his eyes off me until he turned to Jeff and nodded once. "I'm okay with it. One, because Shane might murder me if I said no. And two, because she's the one that... just yes."

For a fraction of a second I wondered how he was going to finish the sentence, but then I realised what he'd just agreed to and grinned. "Awesome! So... can I tell her? Or do we want to get there first and then you two can sweet talk her mom and dad without her attempting to first?"

Jeff stood up, getting ready to go back to the bus and begin to sort the arrangements for another person on tour. "Leave it as a surprise. It'll be more fun that way."

"Keep... writing..." Erin added, following him out of the hall and leaving us there.

Jason put down his guitar and slapped his stomach. "I'm starving, can we go get something to eat?"

"Sure," Nate said, smirking at me. I had a feeling that smirk would be permanently on his face whenever he looked in my direction from now on, but honestly... I didn't care. About any of it. "You coming Shane?"

I nodded as they began to back towards the door. "I'll be there in a minute. You go, I'll catch you up."

Replying with their 'okays' they closed the door behind them and I sat for a few seconds, letting it all sink in before punching the air. Yes!

Hopefully this would work. I hoped it would work. Two whole weeks with Mitchie and her biting sarcasm and ego-deflating burns? It sounded oddly awesome to me.

_"'Cause I could comb across the world and see everything_

_And never be satisfied_

_If I couldn't, see those eyes..."_


	11. Get Up Get Out

_**Title: **Believe In Me_

_**Summary: **__AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like. _

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note: **__dkjrgdjhfjkfskl you guys rock. End of story. Chapter 11 for you here. There might not be an update tomorrow, because I'm visiting relatives, but Sunday you might get two because I'm feeling this story so much right now that I just keep writing and writing and writing. So maybe. And tell me if you think I'm rushing their relationship, please, because sometimes I read it and think that I am and then don't know what to do and then other times I think that it's fine. So let me know what you think!_

_**Disclaimer: **__Yeah... still don't own any of it._

_**Music: **__Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol_

_**"Get up, get out, get away from these liars, because they don't get your soul or your fire"**_

I slouched down further in my seat as everyone began making their way into English class. It had been two days since the Rochelle incident and things hadn't gotten much better. Sure, Shane had texted every night after his shows to see if I was okay and Cait had been awesome... but the whispers still followed me and there was no escape. It wasn't even that they were talking about me. It was that they were talking lies about me.

"Look. There she is. I heard that she and Shane did it in the park, they just weren't allowed to print those pictures for legal reasons." A particularly obnoxious blonde girl said, hiding her mouth with her hand but not lowering her voice any. So I could hear the words being said, but not see her mouth moving. You'd have thought I'd have been less likely to work it out the other way around; not hearing it and having to lip read.

Putting my hand in front of my face, I tore my gaze away from the door and the students coming in (most of them watching me) and looked down at my songbook. It had barely left my side since Monday. Inspiration had rarely been far away. Though I had noticed that my moments of inspiration came fairly close to when Shane had just been in touch. Oh. Who am I kidding? The moments of inspiration practically were him. He was so different to what I'd expected of him; so much more real than I'd thought. And I always seemed to know exactly what to write when I put pen to paper and thought of him. There was no way I'd told Caitlin any of this though... I'd just get an 'I told you so' comment.... which, quite frankly, was the last thing I needed.

"Okay class, settle down." My English teacher, a young guy in his early thirties maybe, entered the classroom, depositing a pile of books on his desk before turning to us all. "Who can remember what I told you guys we'd be studying today?"

Emily Dickinson. I didn't say it out loud -why attract unwanted attention to myself if there was just going to be another Shane comment made? But nobody else seemed to either, and one of those silences spread across the class. Mr Redford sighed and scanned the room, evidently looking for someone to pick on.

I slouched down a tad further, my eyes fixed on my notebook and the lyrics I'd scrawled down earlier. Not me. Please not me...

"Ms. Torres."

Damn it. I glanced up briefly, not saying anything and watched him gesture for me to give some sort of answer. Ugh.

"Has someone stolen your tongue, Ms. Torres?" He prompted when I didn't answer.

Someone behind me laughed cruelly. "Yeah, that'll have been Shane Grey. I heard he likes to keep trophies from the girls he's lured into his bedroom."

I took a sharp intake of breath, fixing my stare back on my book. "Emily Dickinson. We're studying Emily Dickinson."

"That's correct. It's good to know that no rock stars have taken your tongue Mitchie." The joke was a poor one and nobody laughed. Especially not me. It wasn't funny, spreading rumors like this. I'd done one thing - one nice thing for a poor, helpless, lost pop star - and suddenly everyone is assuming I'm some sort of -

"Is that somebody's cell phone I hear?" Mr. Redford had looked away from me, but at the sound of the ringing was looking back in my direction. Mainly because the ringing was coming from suspiciously near to me. Oh no. Please, no.

Taking my phone from my pocket, the Clash ring tone that I'd specifically programmed for a certain someone blared out of it. No, no, no. I was just about to turn it off, when a hand swooped down and took it from me, holding it out of reach.

"Mitchie? You know the rules about cell phones. Now, what could be so important that someone felt they had to interrupt English to let you know?"

I knew what my teacher was going to do before he did it, but that didn't stop my protest. "Please, no do-"

Too late. He'd already answered it, and was crooning a hello into it, greeting Shane Grey in a way that he probably never thought he'd be greeted in when he decided to call me.

"Mitchie is in an English lesson just now, but seeing as she seemed to think it was appropriate to leave her phone on in such a lesson, I'd be happy to take a message."

All eyes were on me, and I slid even further down in my seat until I almost wasn't even visible above the desk. Please. Please just hang up and don't say anything about him being -

"Well Mr. Grey. Not everyone is a rock star and some of us have to be in classes. Ms. Torres included."

The buzz around the room that this statement caused was electric, and the whispers grew fiercer.

"Oh my God is that really him?"

"Are they dating or something?"

Rochelle, from her seat near the back, could be heard clearly. "Puh-lease. That isn't Shane Grey. Mitchie has probably just gotten one of her little friends to call up and pretend to be him. I mean, come on. Shane Grey would never be calling her, even if they did hook up."

"Mr. Redford, please just give me the phone. Please?" I sat up straighter in my seat, not above begging for my phone back.

He looked down at me, hearing the various comments from around the room and then giving a sigh. "Two minutes. I have a lesson to teach."

Taking the phone from his outstretched hands, I tried to ignore everyone else, who were watching me like hawks. "Shane?"

I heard the mimicking of my voice from the back of the room, but just closed my eyes against it. Jealous. They were jealous. Why, I'm not sure. Shane would probably much rather have someone who looked like Rochelle.

"Mitchie? I'm so sorry, I didn't know when lunch was..."

I laughed with no humor. "Well... not now, that's for sure."

"Is that bitch who said those things the other day at lunch there?"

"Yes..."

"Tell her I hate her for me, would you?" I could tell he was trying to lighten me up, but it wasn't really working. It was taking everything I had to ignore everyone else in the room.

"Shane, no offense, but I'm in class and I don't think you called just to get me to say that to someone..."

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Well... what time does school end?" There was more to this, I just knew it, but whatever the rest of the story was, Shane Grey wasn't telling.

I wrinkled my nose, sitting up even higher in my chair. "Two thirty. Why?"

"Oh... no reason."

Lie. There obviously was a reason otherwise he wouldn't have called at all and then this whole scene would've been avoided.

"Anyway!" Now he sounded eager to get off the phone; his mission was accomplished and he had other things to do. "I guess I have to let you get back to English. Say hi to your teacher for me. He seems to think I'm a rock star."

Despite the fact that every eye in the room was on me, I couldn't help but smile at that, rolling my eyes at the same time, of course. "You've obviously brainwashed him, pop star."

"Oh yeah, because I have nothing better to do with my time than brainwash your English teachers..."

I opened my mouth to reply but was cut off with a reminder from Mr. Redford. Two minutes had been and gone. "I really have to go..."

"I know. Okay, say that I'm sorry for disturbing the lesson, that I hope your education does not suffer as a result of this phone call..." He hesitated after that, as though wondering whether to say something and then obviously decided to go for it. "... and I'll see you at two thirty."

WHAT? I was bolt upright in seconds. "What do you mean, see me at two thirty?"

But Shane obviously wasn't going to tell, because the next thing I heard was the dial tone, telling me that he'd hung up. See me at two thirty? See me? Was he here? Why was he here? Oh man, people were going to mob him. Screaming fans. It was daylight. Why was he here? He was on tour.

I stared at my phone for a good minute before Mr. Redford's voice cut into my thoughts.

"Well. Now that Ms. Torres has planned her hot date with a rock star... what do we know about Emily Dickinson?"

Returning to my slouched position, I kept my gaze on my notebook once more. The whispering was worse now, as I knew it would be for the rest of the day. It wouldn't take long for everyone outside of this room to find out. Rumors spread like wildfire around this school, and this week, I was the fuel.

---

I spent the rest of the day ignoring the increased amount of whispers and worrying about what exactly Shane had meant when he said he'd see me at two thirty. Other people had their own version of events, some saying he'd travelled all this way because he'd fallen for me (yeah, right) and some saying that I'd been bugging him so much that he was coming to break my heart once and for all. They were all wrong, I figured that much. But that just made me wonder more. He was supposed to be in New Jersey or something, not Massachusetts. Not Cohasset.

Still, when the bell went to signify the end of the school day, I took my time leaving my math class. Yet when I stepped out into the hallway it was practically deserted... and I hadn't stalled for that long. What could that mean? I wonder.

Deciding to leave everything in my locker - I'd skip homework for tonight seeing as it was almost the weekend anyway... or Wednesday but still - I made my way out of the entrance of school...

And into chaos. It seemed as though the entire student body was there, watching three guys get out of a bus that had parked selfishly directly in front of the school. How was the school bus going to pick anyone up? Not that it looked like anyone was getting ready to leave anytime soon. Connect 3 had only just arrived.

I walked slowly down the steps, trying to navigate my way through the mass of people. Which wasn't hard actually, because when they saw me, the whispering began and they parted. It was like parting an ocean.

Well... apart from Caitlin, who instead of moving away from me like everyone else, ran towards me, an excited look on her face. "Mitchie! He wasn't kidding!"

By this time, a clear path had been forged between me and Shane. He was engrossed in conversation with Nate but at a nod in my direction from his band member, he turned to look at me and his face broke into a grin as he walked forward.

This is going to sound so stupid, but it seriously was like we were the only two there. Forget the crowd of people watching our every move and Caitlin who was surveying me closely and the other two in the band... it felt like me and him. Just him and me.

"Hey Roof Girl," he called when he got a little closer, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie that was very unglamorous for grin was contagious, but I still rolled my eyes, taking my own tentative steps forward. God, this was so like a scene from a teen movie.

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd see me at two thirty, Pop Star."

"I thought about crashing your lunchtime but I figured I'd interrupted enough of your school day... sorry about that again, by the way." He really did look sorry, but the smile didn't leave his face.

I shrugged, waving a hand in the air. He was actually here. Standing in front of me. And everyone could see him and that he did care. As much as Shane Grey could care about someone other than himself anyway. "Gave them all something else to talk about."

"Speaking of..." His grin faded and his expression softened. "Is she here?"

I didn't have to ask who he meant. But I didn't really want to answer. "Shane, the whole school is here..."

"Mitchie..." He didn't speak demandingly per say... but I gave in anyway.

Taking a glance over my shoulder, I nodded in Rochelle's direction. "Blonde, pretty, blue top... yapping into her cell phone like there's no tomorrow... probably talking about you... you see her?"

He nodded, grabbing my arm and pulling me over to her, ignoring my protests. I did not want this.

"Hey," he said casually as we reached her. I tried to take a step backwards, back to Caitlin and away from this whole scene, but he obviously saw me out of the corner of his eye and tightened his grip on my wrist. "You're one of Mitchie's friends, right?"

I did my best to keep my expression blank - first because I wanted to yell 'WHAT?' in all kinds of different volumes and second because as soon as the words escaped his lips, Rochelle's expression changed. As she tried to work out what agreeing to this statement would bring her.

"You could say that..." That was the answer she eventually gave, twisting a strand of fake blonde hair around her finger and smiling at Shane flirtily.

He didn't seem to be fazed at all by the flirting though. His face hardened, and he pulled me forwards. "What would you call it, Mitchie?"

"Shane... can we please just..."

I was ignored - not that I expected anything less from Shane Grey - and he carried on, as though I'd answered the way he wanted me to. "Because I wouldn't call being a total bitch to someone a friendship. Though that might just be me."

The look of utter shock on her face was almost worth it. As was her goldfish impression.

"So whatever you might have to say about Mitchie to make yourself feel better... don't. Just don't. Because no matter how much makeup you put on, she will always be a better, nicer, prettier person than you. Spread that rumor."

And with a final look of disdain, Shane was pulling me along again, heading back in the direction of the bus. I heard a frustrated scream come from behind me, and then some laughter in amongst the hoards of other students, but honestly I didn't have much time to hear anything. Shane obviously had somewhere to be.

"Where are you pulling me?" I asked, still in awe of what he said. He thought that? Or was he just standing up for me because I was standing right there? Would he have said all those things if I hadn't been next to him? Did he really think that I was prettier than her? Better?

"Your house. We've got a proposal for your mom and dad," he replied, not slowing down any. As we passed Caitlin, who was also in awe of what had just gone down with Rochelle, he jerked his head in the direction of the bus. "Want to tag along?"

She squealed (yeah, so much for keeping her cool) and nodded. "Yes! That would be made of awesome."

"Come on then!"

I shot a smile at Nate and Jason as I was dragged past them and pulled up the steps and onto the bus. There was no way I'd be able to slow Shane down any, so I was just not even going to try. There'd be plenty of time later, while they were... wait, what? "Wait, what are you asking my mom and dad?"

"You'll see," was the reply I was given, along with the smirk that screams 'I-know-something-you-don't-know'. How I hated that smirk.

Two minutes later, everybody of concern was on the bus, and it began to move again. But not before I had chance to look out of the window and see the screaming begin. While they'd actually been standing in front of them, it was sheer shellshock. Now they were leaving... well. Nobody wanted them to.

I didn't want them to.

"Oh my gosh!" Caitlin gushed, sitting down on the couch next to me as Shane said something to Nate quietly. "Can you believe this? That was so awesome. He just... and you just... and seriously, you cannot deny that you like him anymore."

I glanced over at Shane to see whether he'd heard that, and was immensely relieved to see that he was so wrapped up in his conversation that he hadn't been paying attention to Caitlin and her out of control mouth. "Seriously Caitlin, we're just friends."

She looked at me, an unconvinced expression written all over her face. We'd been best friends forever, and unfortunately, she could read me like a book. But that didn't mean I had to confirm her suspicions. After staring at me incredulously for a few seconds, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Just friends my - "

But her final word was drowned out by Shane, who turned to me and motioned for me to stand up as he did so himself. "You need to help us find where you live... because you were totally right. I can't remember where it is."

I grinned, forgetting all about Caitlin and her accusations, and stood up beside him. "I knew you wouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah, Mitchie. Yeah, yeah."

---

"You want Mitchie to what now?!"

Trust Caitlin to get over the shock first. And come out with something like that.

My kitchen was full of people - my mom and dad who had both had a rare day off and were shocked to see Connect 3 arrive outside, me, Caitlin, Shane, Nate, Jason (who was riveted with our kitchen tiles for some reason...) and their manager and PR agent. I think the last time our kitchen was ever this full was at Christmas, when the whole Torres clan came over for the day... and we don't speak about that one anymore.

Four of those people, including me, were currently frozen to their seats, having just heard what had to be the craziest (but that didn't mean I didn't like it) idea ever. They wanted me to go on tour with them. Not to perform, but just to be there. To give off the illusion that we were just close friends.

"What... Connie, say something..." my dad stuttered, obviously trying to find the words. I had no idea whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Did I want to go on tour with them?

Um... yes. I just had to look at them to see that. Yes, I did. I wanted to experience that. I mean, it had been my dream since forever. And alright, I wouldn't be performing, but I'd be there. On tour. It could change my life.

Oh. And the fact that Shane was there wouldn't be all that bad either.

"Um... I don't know what to say, Steve. What would you like me to say?" My mom asked, obviously just as shocked.

"Well I couldn't think of anything, which is why I asked you..."

I rolled my eyes, leaning forward and glancing at Shane, who was staring right back at me, before I looked at my mom and dad. "How about... yes Mitchie, you can go on tour? Because that sounds pretty good to me..."

"You want to go then honey?" Mom asked. She was probably the one that would take my feelings into consideration, which was why I was glad that she'd recovered slightly quicker than Dad.

I nodded. "Well... yeah."

Nobody seemed to know what to say after that; there was just a whole lot of looking around at each other as someone searched for the words. I caught Shane's eye, almost begging him to say something without actually speaking. He nodded and then took a breath.

"Mr. and Mrs. Torres, it probably seems totally... weird. I know. But we all talked about it - all of us on tour already - and we decided that it was probably the best way to stop the kids at school talking about her the way that they are. And this way people think that we're just friends as opposed to..." he trailed off, and I was kind of glad he did.

Jeff picked up where he left off, reassuring them yet again. "As we said, sleeping arrangements have been organised. Shane has said he'll sleep on the couch - "

"Really?" Caitlin just had to ask, the disbelief in her voice painfully obvious.

Shane looked at the floor, shrugging. "Yeah."

"Shane has said he'll sleep on the couch," Jeff repeated, looking from me to Shane once before carrying on. "It would be hardly any extra cost, she'd get to see all of the shows for free... and honestly, even if it did cost the record label any extra, they'd see it as worth it."

This caught my dad's attention, his head snapping up. "And why would that be?"

"Shane. They haven't seen him this happy in a long time. He's changed, believe it or not, and it's all..."

"Would they all be safe?" My mom jumped in, after looking from both me to Shane and finding that we were both staring at inanimate objects as though they were going to do some sort of trick.

He changed? So it wasn't just Caitlin that saw that? Everyone did? The record label, management... did the public see it too? Did they watch his shows over the past few days and see a difference in him?

And was it all down to me?

"Completely. I'm in the bus almost all of the time and the boys have a bodyguard who I'm sure would be delighted to look after Mitchie too."

"And what about school?"

Nate offered an answer for this one. "I have to do schoolwork on tour, Mitchie can use some of my resources. Or you could speak to teachers and ask them to email her things to do. We'll make sure she does it..."

Dad looked at me, sighing as he realised that it was almost the time to make a decision. And he didn't look like he wanted to. "I guess it all really comes down to... do you want to go?"

"Yes." I nodded. "I really do."

My parents looked at each other, evidently doing that scary parent thing where they make an agreement just by looking each other in the eyes and changing their expressions only slightly. Sometimes I can tell what they're going to say. Sometimes I can't. This was one time that I couldn't.

When they turned back to us, it was like everyone in the room was holding their breath while they waited for the answer. Usually that would have made me laugh, but I wanted this. I wanted this so much and laughing probably wouldn't sway their decision.

"Well?" I asked, hoping for a yes. Praying for a yes. I'd do anything to get a yes. I'd become a vegetarian. I'd never eat chocolate again. I'd throw out all my clothes and wear my mom's for the rest of my life if I had to, just to get a yes.

"We've decided..."

Seriously. You could've heard a pin drop in that room.

"That you'd better start packing your bags, Mitchie. Especially if you want to get on the road to be in New Jersey by tomorrow."

I screamed, standing up and running to hug my mom. "Seriously? You mean it? Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, you can go but you have to call me every day because I'm gonna miss you! And no walking at midnight. And Jeff, she is still grounded for a week so she has to stay on that bus, okay?"

Jeff nodded, slightly bemused by that request. It was okay, I could work on getting around that one later.

I hugged my dad, grinning. "You guys rock, do you know that?"

"It's been said. I'm just a fly guy," my dad responded, causing me to roll my eyes at him.

Caitlin had also squealed when my mom and dad had said yes and hugged me before saying something about packing my clothes and running off to do just that. Helpful Caitlin.

The PR agent who had remained quiet stepped forward, speaking to my parents. "This is not going to sound reassuring when you've just agreed, but I just need you to sign some insurance papers. They won't be needed probably; they never have been. But it's just in case..."

I stopped listening to her, walking over to where Nate and Jason were talking to a very happy looking Shane. When they saw me looking over, Nate spoke a little louder. "So we'll just go and sort out the bus... it's a bit of a mess and we don't want you having to put up with that..."

"What are you talking about Nate? We tidied it this - " Jason didn't get a chance to finish, because he was being hit over the head and pulled out of the kitchen, leaving me standing opposite Shane. Jeff had joined in the legal conversation and we were the only two left in the kitchen. Wow, it emptied fast.

"So... they said yes," he said, the smile playing on his lips. He was obviously ecstatic about it. Not that I wasn't. Because I so was.

I nodded. "Yes they did. This is... amazing. Thank you. You didn't have to..."

He shrugged, his hands back in his pockets and his gaze back on the floor. "What are friends for?"

"Right." I said, feeling slightly disappointed. "What are friends for?"


	12. Amazed By You

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note: **__Okay so I'm typing this on my new laptop, which is a lot different from the one I'm used to, mainly because it's a Mac and up until yesterday I was the owner of a PC. So... the keyboard is slightly different from what I'm used to, meaning if I've made any punctuation errors, please point them out to me. I've re-read it, but as we all know, even that doesn't solve everything. I'm hoping I'm okay though! And here you are: another chapter. Mitchie's birthday will be on the 5__th__ of November (Wednesday) and I'm going to __try__ and have established their relationship enough to do what I had in mind. Otherwise I'll work something else out. But that could mean maybe another two updates tomorrow. Possibly. If I keep writing and writing and writing. Well... enough from me, I'm sure you all want to read the story. All of your reviews continue to make me want to make this story as amazing as possible, so even if you feel they are getting repetitive, don't worry about it. Each and every one spurs me to keep writing, which is definitely a good thing! And one more thing: I'm sorry for the lack of Jason. I'm going to try and include him more after this, I promise.  
_

_**Disclaimer:**__ The owner of Camp Rock went that-a-way._

_**Music: **Amazed - Lonestar_

_**"Every little thing that you do, baby I'm amazed by you"**  
_

I could have danced. I mean, I'm glad I didn't because I may have looked like I was crazy and Mr and Mrs Torres may have had reservations about letting their only daughter go on tour with a crazy person. I'm sure they already had reservations without my sanity being in question.

But they'd said yes. They'd said yes and she was coming with us for two weeks! Last minute it may have been, but that hadn't stopped them agreeing and now I was beyond happy. Mitchie had recruited her mom and Caitlin to help her pack and I hovered in the doorway of her bedroom in case I was needed. Not that I expected to be needed because judging by the blur of clothes and people, they knew what they were doing without my help.

"Okay!" Mitchie cried after about fifteen minutes of chaos. The room was covered in clothes that had been deemed unwanted and thrown on the floor. What color had the carpet been? Was there even a carpet to begin with? "I think we're done."

Turning to me, she looked as though she expected some agreement. Which she'd get. The sooner we got on the road, the better. I nodded and shrugged in reply, gesturing over my shoulder to the stairs. "We'll wait by the bus..."

Mitchie nodded, looking around the room. It obviously dawned on her right then that she was actually leaving. Actually coming with us. I tore my eyes away from her and headed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her dad was waiting at the bottom, presumably for Mitchie, but when he saw me he spoke up.

"You look after her, Mr. Grey."

There was nothing I could do but nod. Of course I would. With my life if I had to – though I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"I've heard all about you..."

Uh-oh. "Mr Torres, I'm not like the tabloids say, I - "

"It's lucky that I don't listen to those papers then, isn't it?" The amused expression on his face scared me just slightly. "Mitchie has been full of praise ever since she met you for real. And I trust my daughter a little more than I trust those sleazy gossip rags."

"Well I'm grateful for that Mr T - "

He cut in once more, looking at me seriously this time. "She likes you. Which means I like you. I know you'll look out for her on this tour and that was what made me agree. Don't cause me to regret that decision..."

I shook my head, unable to remember the last time I'd been so intimidated. "I will try my absolute best to make sure she's happy. Of course."

This answer seemed to satisfy him and I earned myself a slap on the shoulder and a smile. "It was good to meet you. She's not one to talk about people a lot, but if the fact that that phone has been surgically attached to her hand for days and a smile hasn't been far away whenever she looks at the screen is as a result of you, then you can't be all bad. But you can't tell her I told you that..."

I grinned. She smiled whenever I texted? Really? "My lips are sealed. She's done packing and will be down in a minute. I'm gonna go wait by the bus... let you say goodbye."

"Thanks," he nodded at me.

"One more thing..." I pulled out another bit of paper that I had already scribbled my cell phone number down on. "It's her birthday on the 5th, right? I remember her telling me. Call me and we'll arrange for a plane to pick you guys up so that you can be with her on the day."

This caused a look of appreciation, as I'd hoped it would. "Thank you."

I shrugged, backing towards the front door. "It's no problem. You guys seem close. And I know I barely know her, or you, but it seems like something you'd like and she'd like and it's my fault she's not going to be here in the first place so I wanted to help..."

At that moment, a slightly teary-eyed Mitchie appeared at the top of the stairs with her mom and Caitlin right behind her, carrying two bags and I took my chance to slip out of the door. Seeing her mom and dad on her birthday was something I thought she might appreciate. Looks like I was right.

Outside I noticed that a few people had noticed our arrival (there was a group of about ten screaming girls stood at the foot of Mitchie's driveway, kept there by Big Rob). Sending the screamers a quick wave, I turned to Nate and Jason.

"Could you be any less like the Shane Grey who started this tour?" Nate commented in the same tone he'd been using all week.

"Possibly. Want me to try?" I shot back, grinning.

He shook his head as the door that I'd closed about a minute before opened and Caitlin emerged. I could see the outline of Mitchie hugging her parents behind her.

"Can I talk to you?"

The question was directed at me, and I glanced at Nate before answering with a nod. "I thought Nate was your favorite..."

Her mouth dropped open before she spun around to look at Mitchie (who hadn't even noticed the exchange) and then from me to Nate (who was looking at the tree that I'd hidden behind as though someone else were hidden behind it right now). "I'm going to kill her..."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Please don't. I'm good with her being alive."

"Ugh." The girl rolled her eyes and then carried on, as though that short conversation had never happened. "Whatever. Look... just... don't hurt her, okay?"

Hurt her? Why would I hurt her? How could I hurt her?

"Hurt her?" Nate had looked away from the tree and was now staring at Caitlin.

She shrugged, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "Yeah. I... can't say too much. But seriously, she... you... just... don't."

The Nate-smirk was back, though I couldn't see why because I was massively confused by the whole situation.

"I won't hurt her," I said, managing to reach the conclusion that that was what Caitlin wanted to hear. Though why, I wasn't too sure. As if I ever could. "I..."

Nate laughed at my face. "He can't hurt her. It'd probably hurt him too much in the process."

The look that passed between Caitlin and Nate was one of mutual understanding – on their parts. I still had no idea what was going on in both of their heads. But I wasn't sure I'd like it, whatever it was. Luckily, Mitchie chose that moment to emerge from the house, her eyes red and her mom's looking very similar.

"Ready?" I asked gently, hoping that she wasn't going to change her mind, but wanting the best for her at the same time.

She smiled up at me and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

I watched as she hugged her mom again and then her dad, talking all the while. "I'll call every day, I promise. And don't think you guys can get out of giving me birthday presents. I'll want them when I get back. And I'll be safe, okay?"

Her mom was looking choked up and when Mitchie stepped back, her dad enveloped his wife into another hug. She smiled at them, turning to me and nodding. "Let's blow this popsicle stand, Pop Star."

I had to laugh, following Nate and Jason (who were talking to Caitlin as though they had something very important to discuss) as they led the way to the bus. I didn't even want to know, so I looked at Mitchie, who was walking along beside me, wiping her eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded, grinning. "Yeah. Yeah! I'm great. Awesome. I'm going on a tour. And not like a tour where I'm the act, I know, but it'll be fun. It's just... I'm not good at goodbyes. And though I know I'll see them again..."

"It's hard to let them go in the first place?" I vaguely recollected feeling something like that the first time I did it. Before I got... the attitude. And didn't think I needed them anymore.

"Yeah..."

Reaching the bus, we stood awkwardly for a few seconds, before Mitchie's dad pulled her into a final hug. "You'll want to get going if you have to be in New Jersey tomorrow..."

"I'll call you Daddy," Mitchie muttered, pulling away from her father and into her mom's arms.

It was these sorts of exchanges I missed. We were so used to being on tour; so used to being separated from our families and friends that we were used to it. Our friends were each other. Our families were only a phone call away. But actual goodbyes... they rarely occurred anymore.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd hugged my mom or dad like that. And maybe it was different. I was older. I was more mature. I was... Shane Grey. And I had an attitude that people didn't want to cross. Even my own mom and dad.

"Love you!" Mitchie called, as she backed away and to the steps of the bus. It was evident that if she didn't leave now, she might never be able to and she wanted to. That was how it worked. No matter how much you wanted to, it got harder as the minutes went on. "Caitlin! I'm going to call you. All the time. And text and I'm going to miss you!"

Caitlin grinned, also looking a little teary. "I'll miss you too Mitchie. But damn right you'll call. I'll call you too. You have to be the luckiest girl in the world right about now."

"Yeah, right."

"Yes. You're going on tour with Connect 3. Are you kidding me? So many people would die to be you right now."

"Whatever Caitlin."

"Mitchie, I would probably die to be you right now."

Mitchie rolled her eyes. "I'll speak to you soon Cait, I promise. Miss you!"

"Miss you too!"

They hugged, and while I rolled my eyes at such a girly exchange, I was still thinking about the fact that all of these people were sad at her leaving. Who was sad when I left? Nobody. Though I guess I'd brought that one on myself.

I stepped onto the bus, ready to offer a helping hand for when Mitchie needed to climb up. It didn't take long for her to decide that she was ready and had to leave before she was compelled to say goodbye again, and she looked up at me with a smile on her slightly tear-stained face. Crying sometimes makes people look worse. Mitchie just looked prettier. Though that might not have been appreciated if i'd said it out loud. But she did. It showed she had feelings and cared.

"You ready?"

She nodded, taking the hand that I held out and pulling herself up the steps and onto the bus, only shooting a few backwards glances at her parents and her best friend. "This is where the tour begins?"

I nodded back at her, grinning. Sure, if you wanted to be technical, the tour had started a few weeks ago. All the way in Newport Beach, California. But right here? This was where the tour started for me. For sure. "The next two weeks of your life begins now. You'd better be ready for this. It could get crazy."

"Crazier than finding a pop star hiding in your driveway, falling off your roof and then proceeding to wake up on Perez Hilton's website?"

Raising my eyebrows, I shrugged. "Who knows? Two weeks on the road with Connect 3? Anything could happen."

"Don't say that too loud... my parents might change their minds if they hear that." Mitchie smiled, which was a good thing to see when she'd been crying a little, minutes before. At least she still wanted to be here.

The other two had gotten on the bus and the doors had closed. I could hear the engine start up, and Mitchie ran over to the window to give her family one final wave. I grinned at the sight. She was here! On tour! In front of me! "Too late now. Welcome to the tour, Torres."

---

"What are you guys watching?" Mitchie walked into the room after she'd put her bags into the room that I'd vacated and she'd moved into. She'd tried to make me promise to switch with her every alternative night, so that I got the bed sometimes and she slept on the couch her fair share. But even though I'd agreed – after much fight – there was no way that I was going to let that happen. I was not going to subject Mitchie to sleeping on the couch.

I looked over at her from the TV, beckoning for her to come and sit down. "CSI. I've seen this one, but Nate is forbidding me from telling him who did it."

"I've seen it!" Jason chipped in.

She sat down, pulling her legs up underneath her. "I think I might've seen it too..."

"Don't! Don't. Say. A. Word. Any of you."

Mitchie put her hand to her mouth and mimed locking her lips up, throwing the imaginary key over her shoulder. Then she sat quietly. That is... until she stole a glance at me and pulled a face. Then we were both laughing; at the face and the ridiculousness of Nate's behavior.

It felt so easy to laugh with her. I hadn't laughed like this on tour since... forever ago. Our first tour. When we were still naïve enough to believe that we were getting to live our dream, instead of being used as puppets.

"Seriously! Go away!" Nate waved his arms in the air, the remote control securely in one hand to stop anybody else stealing it and changing the channel.

I looked at Mitchie. "Should we listen to him?"

She thought for a second and then shook her head. "Nope."

"So, Roof Girl, what do you suggest we do?"

Chewing on her lip as she tried to think of an answer, she eventually responded with a shrug. "I don't know. What do you do on tour?"

"Lately? I've been writing songs. We usually watch TV... but obviously Nate's in control of that one tonight. It's not as fun as some people would have you believe. Driving. Eating. Playing a show and then not doing much else in between."

Her eyes had lit up as soon as I mentioned writing songs and so I just knew what was going to come out of her mouth next. "Songs? Can I hear them?"

This attracted Nate's attention, and he turned away from CSI in order to watch what I was going to say.

"I don't..."

Most of them were about her. I couldn't just let her hear them. What if she thought it was freaky? Stalkery? That it was weird that I only just met her and was already writing songs about her? If she even worked out that they were about her.

Were they that obvious? I couldn't tell.

"Please? C'mon, I've wanted to hear a real song of yours ever since you told me that they change your versions into the stuff we hear." There was no way I was going to be able to hold out for too long if she kept up the pouting.

"They're not finished yet..."

It was a pathetic excuse. So pathetic that Nate scoffed before turning back to the dead body drama on the TV.

"Please? Shane? Please? It would rock so much."

I rolled my eyes, standing up. "On one condition."

She stood up beside me, still a few inches shorter than I was, and nodded. "Yes. Whatever it is."

"You have to play me something you've written."

Mitchie's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No. No way. I can't."

"Why? If I can, you can."

"How did you even know I wrote anything? I don't remember telling you that."

Wow. She didn't? "You didn't. But... you said you loved music. And so I just assumed... you obviously do though. So you can play something for me."

"No. No I can't. That doesn't work for me." She shook her head so hard that it could have fallen off, were it in danger of unattaching itself from her body. "I'm sorry."

I sat back down, shrugging. "Fine then. I guess we'll just sit and watch CSI then. I wonder when the guy that did it first makes an appearance."

Mitchie stayed standing for a few minutes before collapsing next to me. "Fine."

"Fine we'll stay watching CSI? Or fine you'll sing something?" I asked, moving my head to the side to examine her face.

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "I'll sing something. But you have to go first."

Good. That worked for me. I got up, picking up my guitar from the other side of the room and then sitting down on the floor, cradling it in my arms. What to play... I didn't want something obvious. Singing the one that I'd written with the guys was way too blatant. And the unfinished one that I'd written when I first met her... that was a no go too. Which just left...

_"Every time I think I'm closer to the heart_

_What it means to know just who I am_

_I think I finally found a better place to start_

_No one ever seems to understand_

_I need to try to get to where you are_

_Could it be you're not that far?"_

I'd written this song the night before, sitting alone in my room for an hour and a half with nothing but my guitar and this melody in my head. And it had turned out perfectly. I couldn't remember the last time such a song was so easy to write. Both Nate and Jason (who was being uncharacteristically quiet...) had turned to look at me, but I just looked away. I didn't want to look at Mitchie, in case she hated it. My guitar strings were suddenly fascinating; watching my calloused fingers skim across the frets and strings was suddenly like the most interesting thing in the world.

_"You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_Gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_I gotta find you_

_You're the remedy I'm searching hard to find_

_To fix the puzzle that I see inside_

_Painting all my dreams the color of your smile_

_When I find you it will be alright_

_I need to try to get to where you are_

_Could it be you're not that far?_

_You're the voice I hear inside my head_

_The reason that I'm singing_

_I need to find you_

_Gotta find you_

_You're the missing piece I need_

_The song inside of me_

_I need to find you_

_Gotta find you..."_

I stopped, not because the song had finished, but because the suspense was killing me. I couldn't carry on for another chorus and verse, waiting to discover what people thought. I could pretend that it was all I had so far. That was easy enough. So, I finished on the chord I'd begun on and looked tentatively up at my audience.

As expected, Nate was grinning slightly, his eyes back on the TV. Jason was nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls, but hadn't said a thing. And Mitchie... I looked over at her with my heart in my mouth.

"Well?" I asked, when her face showed no sign of any reaction at all.

She opened her mouth, seemingly searching for the words to say. Oh man, she hated it. It probably sucked.

"Shane... it was amazing. Honestly. Nothing like that cookie-cutter pop band stuff I hear you guys playing on stage most of the time. Seriously, if you guys find a way to release that... I know that everyone would love it. It'd sell like crazy."

I smiled widely, standing up with the guitar. She'd liked it! Yes! And it didn't look like she'd guessed that it was about her in any way. Which, while Nate would probably argue that I should just tell her that information, was a good thing in my eyes. "You liked it then?"

"That would be the understatement," she replied, her eyes shining as she nodded. But when I held out the guitar to her, they stopped shining slightly. She obviously played – I'd seen the worn guitar in her bedroom – and she'd remembered her promise. "Fine. Okay."

Walking over to the spot I'd just stood up from, I sunk down into her space on the couch. It already smelt like her in the pillows. "Whenever you're ready... I don't want to rush you."

"So... next week?"

The hopeful note in her voice was evident, and part of me wanted to cave. But the other, more selfish part, wanted her to sing more. And if she didn't sing now, I knew she'd pull the same act next week. I'd never hear it. So I shook my head, watching her face fall and then hearing her sigh as she held the guitar like I had and took a deep breath. Her eyes flickered to her hands, like mine had. Avoiding eye contact. "Um... well okay. I wrote this one for Caitlin." A chord rung out, drowning the sounds of CSI out.

_"She was given the world_

_So much that she couldn't see_

_And she needed someone to show her,_

_Who she could be._

_And she tried to survive_

_Wearing her heart on her sleeve_

_But I needed you to believe."_

Watching her immerse herself in music was almost mesmerising. She'd closed her eyes against the world, playing the chords perfectly. How could anyone think that she wasn't beautiful or amazing? This was pure amazing.

_"You had your dreams, I had mine._

_You had your fears, I was fine._

_You showed me what I couldn't find,_

_When two different worlds collide._

_She was scared_

_Unprepared._

_Lost in the dark._

_Falling apart,_

_I can survive,_

_With you by my side._

_We're gonna be alright._

_This is what happens when two worlds collide._

_You had your dreams, I had mine._

_You had your fears, I was fine._

_You show me what I couldn't find,_

_When two different worlds collide._

_When two different worlds collide."_

Her fingers picked out the last few notes, her eyes snapping open and immediately meeting mine to get my reaction. Though unlike hers, I was aware that mine was written on my face.

I'd heard her on the roof and she was good. But up close, and where she was actually singing and not just singing along, she was more than good. Awesome. Inspiring.

"Well?" she copied, her smile playing on her lips.

I nodded. "Amazing. See, why wouldn't you want to play that? It was brilliant."

She shrugged, putting the guitar back where I'd gotten it from, placing it carefully as though it were worth a lot of money. As though it hadn't been the one I'd thrown to the floor in frustration when I couldn't write that song.

She walked back across the living area of the bus, sitting down next to me. "I just... I'm not the most confident person in the world."

"You don't have to be. You just have to believe in yourself. And with a voice and talent like that... you should. Believe in yourself."

Mitchie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile. "Believe in myself. Okay. I'll work on believing in myself if you work on getting your record label to love your real sound."

She said that as though it were easy. Though, looking in her eyes, it seemed easier than it had ever seemed. As easy as one, two, three.

"Guys. As much as I adored music time, this episode is almost finished and I want to know who did it. So do me a favor and just shut up?"

I looked at Mitchie and she grinned back at me, nodding before we both said at the exact same time: "It was the cop."

"SHANE! MITCHIE!" Nate cried, throwing his arms up in the air. "Way to ruin it!"

Mitchie laughed, catching my eye.

I stuck my tongue out at her just a little and then turned toward Jason, who was laughing along... but silently. When had he last spoken? "Jason... why are you not saying anything?"

The other two turned to look at him and he shrugged. "Nate said that none of us were allowed to say another word..."

There was a silence around the room as these words actually sunk in. And then the laughter started again. Forget everything else. Me, Nate, Jason (though I'm not convinced he knew what was funny) and Mitchie, sitting in a tour bus, laughing. What else was there to think about?

Nothing.


	13. Look In Your Eyes

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note: **__Life got busy and I got a certain review telling me that as the chapters went on my writing diminished slightly (which I really appreciate, because it means that I've re-evaluated my chapters and tried to make this one better, so thank you!) which meant that I've been unable to update so quickly. It also means I missed Mitchie's birthday, but that doesn't necessarily matter. You'll get a chapter talking about her birthday, whenever that may be. I might edit the two chapters that have mentioned a specific date and take them out, so that I don't have any pressure to write too quickly. But I'm sorry for not having anything for you before now, though I'm hoping that my writing is more like it was to begin with and that you still like it! Please tell me if I still need to work on making it more like it was at the start, because I honestly want it to be. It'll mean less frequent updates though. And another thing I wanted to address... I got asked whether they have purity rings in this story and the answer is I don't know. I'm not planning on mentioning it, just because that's something I generally don't get into just in case, so if you imagine them as having purity rings, go for it. And if you imagine them as not having them, that's okay too. I might specify later on, if I feel like opening that can of worms, but right now you can make your own minds up! This is it from me, I promise. Enjoy this chapter!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ If you're looking for the owner of Camp Rock, you've come to the wrong place, sorry._

_**Music:**__ Hero/Heroine – Boys Like Girls_

"_**I'll just take a deep breath and I'll look in your eyes"**_

Sleep was like an alien concept to me that night. There was no way on Earth that I was going to be able to drift off into a slumber when I had so much to think about. So much to wonder about. I just stared at the empty bed above me, feeling the vibration of the bus moving down the highway to our destination, thinking about everything that had happened to me in the past few days. And coming to one conclusion about what was happening to me.

Whenever I thought about Shane, a smile seemed to creep across my face, whether I meant it to or not. I'd literally only known him for a few days – four? Five? - but whenever I caught his eye in my kitchen or when I was saying goodbye or when we were sitting on the bus, I felt this unfamiliar sensation in the very bottom of my stomach. As though I'd just gone on the world's biggest rollercoaster. As though I was on a plane that was going through some major turbulence. But not as horrible. It wasn't necessarily an unwanted sensation. Just... weird. And whenever I thought about the two weeks that lay ahead of me, I had a combination of the smile and the stomach flip. As un-Mitchie-like as it may be, I've seen the majority of those romantic comedies. I know what it all adds up to.

I liked Shane Grey.

In that... not-just-as-a-friend way. In that if-you-kissed-me-now-I'd-be-the-happiest-girl-alive way.

And, being Mitchie Torres, I had no idea what to do about it. I mean, I couldn't _say _anything. Seeing as there was no way he'd ever look twice at me in that way. Although...

No. I shook my head against my pillow, trying to get rid of the spark of hope that had alighted when I thought of what Caitlin and Jeff had said. I'd _changed _him. Something that many other people had attempted to do before me. But only I'd succeeded in. I didn't even know how I'd done that. I didn't know how I could've done that. We'd met once. Known each other for less than a week. What sort of impact can you have in that time? I didn't see how just meeting someone could change your whole outlook on life. That just seemed crazy. Too crazy to be something to invest hope in. I couldn't hope that he'd changed because he liked me the way that I liked him. I was a realist. Not an optimist; not a pessimist. But someone who looked at a situation and saw the reality instead of how it could be.

Shane Grey did not like me like that. And I didn't think he ever would. I highly doubted he was lying on the couch in the other room, unable to sleep because of me.

Heaving a huge sigh, I pushed myself up into a sitting position on the bed, making sure that I didn't bang my head like last time. Lying, staring at the mattress above me was doing no good. Honestly, I didn't know what sitting up would do for me, but it had to be better than lying down. Maybe. Probably not.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and felt my bare feet connect with the floor of the bus. It was wooden, which I'd found weird. I mean, hello, we were on a bus. A moving vehicle. But this was almost luxurious. Three bedrooms (okay, so they were small, but they were bedrooms), a bathroom (without a shower, but I was told that we stopped off and showered in hotels every two days at least), a living area and a kitchen. This was practically an apartment. But... on a bus.

Standing up, I pushed my covers back onto the bed and pulled my t-shirt that I wore in bed down to cover my stomach. I didn't know what I was going to do, but anything had to be better than letting my thoughts wander to Shane and my apparent feelings for him.

I didn't do this. Mitchie Torres had never even had a 'proper' boyfriend. I'd been on dates and been asked out, but they'd rarely lasted much longer than one outing. And the ones that did were never real. I never felt much of a connection with them. But how could I deny that I'd somehow forged a connection with Shane? How many other people did I meet that I talked to for a few hours and became friends instantly with? And then, after a hundred texts and one more meeting, feel attracted to? Like properly.

I watched all the romantic movies. I'd seen all the clichés. And I was a walking cliché now. This could so have been the plotline of a Kate Hudson movie or something. Though she might be a bit too old. A teenage movie. A Hilary Duff movie maybe. She'd probably handle it better than I was though. And I'm sure that the movie would end with them both getting together. Happily ever after.

The door creaked slightly as I opened it, stepping out into the narrow hallway that connected all the rooms. Wincing as I took slow steps, I hoped that I didn't wake anyone up. The only person awake was the driver, and the sliding door that led the way to where he was sitting was closed. I doubted he was aware that one of his passengers was up and walking around. Probably wouldn't care if he did.

Finally I got to the kitchen area, breathing a sigh of relief as I did so. I could get something to eat and then clear my head. And try and forget all about Shane and pretend that everything was hunky dory and that I wasn't like every other girl in the country. That I didn't want to be the girlfriend of Shane Grey.

Ugh. Did I seriously just think that? I stopped dead in the middle of opening the fridge to see what they had. I could not believe I had just thought those words. I wanted to be Shane Grey's girlfriend? No. No way. I couldn't want that. I'd just met him.

Ugh. But I did. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Pushing the fridge closed (there was nothing much in there anyway – typical guys) I pulled open the freezer and took out the one thing that would make me feel better. It was the universal heartache food. Guaranteed to make any girl feel way better about herself in one mouthful. But we usually ended up eating the whole tub anyway. Luckily they had some, and I leaned against the counter with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and a spoon.

I shot a glance through to the living room area, seeing the end of the couch. From where I was, I could just see his feet. Sighing, I turned away, shook my head and dug my spoon into the chocolate ice cream. It was tough to cut through - I hadn't let it soften any – but I didn't care. Life was tough to cut through. You couldn't let life soften any.

Pulling myself up, so that I was sitting on the counter, I shoved a spoonful of my food into my mouth. Seriously. Ben and Jerry should be given awards of some sort. Maybe they already have. I don't know. But if they have, they totally deserve those awards. And if they haven't... well I need to know who to write to in order to change that. Because they need to be recognised for the number of girls (and maybe guys too, I don't know) they have made feel better after just one spoonful of the amazing ice cream they create.

A sound from behind me alerted my attention, and I froze, my mind racing with the possibilities of what it could be. Subconciously I knew. But still. Something could have fallen over, I guess. We were on a moving bus. Or it could just have been... the pipes. Are there pipes on a bus? I don't even know. But as I said, even before I heard the voice, I knew what it was.

"Are you eating all of my ice cream?"

I turned around slowly, my eyes meeting almost instantly with the brown eyes that I'd looked into so little but had almost memorized already. "No?" It wasn't the best defence, especially as my mouth was still full of the stuff, but I didn't mind so much.

Shane laughed, walking around the small island and standing opposite me, his expression one of mocking amusement. "Really? Because the ice cream in your mouth and hands tells me a different story."

"It doesn't tell you whose ice cream I'm eating. Could be mine for all you know..." I said, having swallowed the mouthful of ice cream I had and pausing filling my mouth with the next piled spoonful I had all ready.

"I really should start putting my name on it, shouldn't I?" Shane stated, leaning against the other counter opposite me. I couldn't help but notice that his hair wasn't even messed up, which led me to believe he hadn't been sleeping. Which led me to wonder why. But it seemed rude to just come out and ask that sort of thing. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. Or maybe he had been sleeping and then I'd just look like an idiot.

I rolled my eyes, holding the spoon out to him. "I think this spoonful might have Shane written on it somewhere."

He didn't even protest, just leaned his upper body forwards and ate the ice cream from the spoon that I was holding. It was almost like feeding him, which I was convinced he was capable of doing himself. But neither of us said anything. His gaze never left mine, even when he pulled back – leaving the spoon almost totally free of ice cream, might I add – and resumed his earlier pose of leaning against the counter.

When I could no longer take the intense eye contact, I looked down at the ice cream that was beginning to melt around the edges in my hands. "So... you're probably wondering why I'm even up at... what time is it?"

I didn't look up to see what his expression told me, but his tone of voice told me he was probably smiling. I hoped he was. "Three in the morning."

Really? My head snapped up and I caught his eye once again. Gah, I needed to stop doing that. It sent my stomach all crazy again. "Three in the morning. Yeah. You're probably wondering what I'm doing up..."

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "You're the kind of girl who'll sit on a roof at gone midnight. And then walk a lost popstar home. Honestly, I'm not surprised you just wake up to get some ice cream early in the morning."

I smiled, shoving the spoon back into the tub and taking out another spoonful, putting it in my mouth and swallowing before I replied. "Okay. Let's go with that one. But you don't look like you've been to sleep. So why are you not sleeping? I would've thought that a pop star like you would've needed his beauty sleep."

Shane laughed, pointing at his face. "Seriously Mitchie. I'm not sure I need much more beauty sleep. Not much room for improvement, really." I could tell that he was joking; his ego wasn't that out of control.

I reached out with my leg, kicking him lightly with my big toe. There wasn't much space in between the two counters anyway; kicking him was easy enough. "Maybe you need the beauty sleep to maintain your beauty. If you don't sleep you might end up looking like Shrek or something."

"Shrek?" His eyebrows raised so that they were hidden by his hair, and I could tell that he was imagining what he'd look like as Shrek. Hell, I was imagining what he'd look like as Shrek. And it was a pretty funny mental image. "I could never look like him."

Piling up the spoon once more, I shrugged. "You never know what could happen. But I'd kinda like for you to avoid looking like Shrek, if that's okay with you."

"Maybe I want to look like him," Shane replied, unconvincingly. Yeah, right. I highly doubted that Shane Grey would be okay with looking like a green ogre. That just didn't seem like something he'd like. He obviously saw from my expression that he hadn't convinced me and sighed. "Okay so I don't. But I couldn't sleep, and I heard someone come in here and thought I'd investigate."

I pushed my bangs out of my face and held the spoon full of ice cream out to him again. "I'm sorry you're sleeping on the couch. If that's why you couldn't sleep anyway. I'm sure it's not the most comfortable place to be." And while I'd made him promise that he was going to let me sleep on the couch some nights, I had kind of worked out that it wasn't going to happen. Apparently chivalry wasn't dead and Shane was going to put up with the couch for the next two weeks because of this.

"That's not really it..." he shrugged and took the spoon from out of my hands this time, lifting it to his mouth by himself. "But like you said, we can go with that one."

We didn't speak for a few seconds, as he cleaned the spoon and handed it back to me. But even though we weren't speaking, the eye contact was back. And I didn't want to be the one to break it this time, if only so that I could remain convinced that I wasn't avoiding him. Though it became apparent after about a minute of this that he wasn't going to give in either. It was like the staring game you played as kids. Whomever blinked first was the loser. And nobody wanted to be crowned loser.

"Mitchie..." he began, breaking the silence first, but still not looking away.

There was something in his tone of voice that he was going to say something serious. And I wasn't sure that I wanted to hear it. My mind had flooded with guesses of what he was going to say and they got progressively worse as I thought of another one.

He'd guessed that I liked him and was going to let me down gently.

He'd guessed that I liked him and was going to laugh at me.

He'd guessed that I liked him and was going to send me back home.

Jumping down from off the counter – and consequently bringing myself closer to him than I ever had been, thanks to the lack of space in the small kitchen; there was literally an inch between us – I was the one to break the eye contact yet again and slid out from in between the kitchen counters, to the doorway to the living area. "Why don't we watch TV or something? Unless you want to go back to sleep, in which case I'll totally go to bed too and I'll see you in the morning..."

"Oh." Another emotion had entered his voice for that one word. Disappointment. Why was he disappointed? What had he been going to say? Why had I interrupted him? Maybe... "Well if you want to go to sleep..."

I shook my head, cursing myself for interrupting. Because now I wanted to know what he was going to say and it was too late. I couldn't go back and tell him to finish the sentence that I'd so rudely interrupted. "I can't sleep... I've tried."

"Well... we can watch TV?"

I nodded. Why had I cut in? What had he been going to say? You know those moments you have where you just wish that time machines had been invented so that you could have seen what could have been? I was having one. Ugh.

"Cool." He nodded too. It was as though we'd passed friendship and settled into awkwardness, though maybe I was imagining it. Maybe because it was so late... "I get to control though."

Grateful for the Shane-like remark, I rolled my eyes and grinned. "Fine. But I swear, if you put on anything that I don't like, I'll hit you."

Walking around the island to where I was, he assumed a scared look on his face. "Wow. You'll hit me? Now I'm shaking in my boots."

"You're not wearing shoes," I stated, looking down at his bare feet which were opposite mine. God, he even had nice feet.

How do people have nice feet? Did I seriously just observe Shane Grey's feet? Why did I do that?

"Nicely observed."

If I hadn't said something, we probably could have stood in the doorway all night, just looking at each other. But like always, I succumbed to the intensity that I couldn't handle and broke it. "Come on Pop Star. This ice cream is totally melting in my hands."

And so without another word, we made our way to the couch – or in Shane's case, his bed – and sat down, turning on the TV and taking it in turns to eat a spoonful of ice cream. To an outsider, we could've been together.

But to me, Mitchie Torres, I knew the truth. We were just Shane and Mitchie. Two people who still barely knew each other. But we were working on that one.

---

"Shane? Mitchie?"

A voice cut into my slumber, reminding me eerily of the last time I was on this bus. Would I always be awoken like this when I was on the Connect 3 tour bus? Is that how it went?

Opening one eye, I saw Nate standing over me, a smirk on his face. Jason was next to him, grinning like he always was. But it didn't look like the room that I'd been given to sleep in. Why did it look so unlike that? And why did he say Shane's name too? Wasn't Shane out on the...

Oh.

I sat up like a shot, lifting my head from Shane Grey's chest. Then I stood up, letting the covers fall from my body, leaving me standing in my t-shirt and shorts in front of the other two members of Connect 3. And the third one too, who was just coming around on the couch. Well... this was not how I expected my first morning to go.

On the plus side, I'd obviously fallen asleep at some point. Which was more than I'd been expecting when I'd been lying staring at the mattress...

"Um..."

Luckily, Nate noticed my obvious discomfort at the situation – even though we had been fully clothed and it was evident that we'd just fallen asleep watching MTV, it was still weird to think what would have probably gone through their minds – and chipped in. "We're in New Jersey. And Jeff will be getting up in a few minutes, so I'd get dressed..."

I nodded, shooting a glance at Shane who was just rubbing his eyes and piecing everything together. "Thanks Nate..."

He shrugged at me, sending a smile in my direction. "No problem. I hope you got permission to eat the ice cream though. He gets protective over that stuff."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. He once threatened to fill my bed with ice cream when I ate some of his. I'd hate for that to happen to you. Though... it's his bed. So he probably wouldn't."

"That's just one of the reasons why he wouldn't, Jase," Nate stated, shutting up when he received a glare from Shane, who had worked out what was happening.

"I'll remember that for next time," I said. "Wouldn't want to be sleeping on ice cream. But... yeah. I'm going to get dressed."

I didn't want to hang around for much longer. The situation wasn't the most awkward it could be, but I still wanted to be dressed in something more than a tshirt and some shorts and I wanted to fix my hair which I'm sure was a complete mess. And I didn't want Jeff to come out and find me there. Because I didn't want to do anything that could get me sent home.

"Cool." Shane stood up, grinning at me. "Then you can come and hear a sound check. And then we could get something to eat?"

I must have nodded, because his face broke into an even bigger smile. It sounded like normal stuff. I'd expected meeting fans and interviews and photoshoots every day. Though I supposed that these were every so often and not all the time. That would have been stressful, were they every day.

"Okay. Sounds good to me. I'll be ready in a couple of minutes..." Shooting a smile at all three of them, I dodged into the room that I'd occupied and closed the door quickly behind me, leaning my head back against it.

We'd stayed up until about five, I recollected that. And we'd watched music videos, discussing the ones we liked and the ones we didn't like. We'd finished off the ice cream – some of it ending up on our faces thanks to our childishness – and I vaguely remembered Spongebob Squarepants on the television screen. But that was all I could envision, so we must have fallen asleep a little bit after that.

Not how I expected my first night to go. But I'd liked it. It had been fun. If it happened on a regular basis... I'd be in way too deep.

I sighed, slipping down the door until I was sitting on the floor.

I, Mitchie Torres, was definitely falling for Shane Grey. And I had no idea what the hell to do about it.


	14. A Better Man

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Okay so. I love this chapter. I love the last part; just showing how much Shane really has changed and I love the situation and I can picture it perfectly in my head. Hopefully you guys agree. And as I write this, I have 195 reviews, which blows my mind. I love every reviewer; thank you so much. Every review I get spurs me to keep writing and keep going and the fact that you guys think I'm a good writer is so complimentary. Thank you. So much._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Sorry, I haven't purchased the rights to Camp Rock yet. It's on my to-do list though. Right after jumping off the Empire State Building._

_**Music:**__ Better Man – James Morrison_

"_**For you, I am a better man"**_

I spotted Mitchie as soon as she graced the hall with her presence. We'd left her to get dressed on the bus and told her to meet us at the stage when she was ready. Having only just finished making sure the guitars were in tune, she was just in time to hear a few songs. She was definitely going to be sick of hearing them by the end of the fortnight; not that I thought she'd mind about this. Mitchie Torres didn't even like Connect 3, apparently. Or not a lot anyway. Supposedly, the Sex Pistols were much more her thing.

"Goodnight and Goodbye," I muttered to Nate, who nodded once and then went over to the piano, ready to play the intro to that one. It had been the one she'd been singing on the roof when I first met her. And whether she remembered this, I didn't know, but it seemed fitting. Saturday – which while it was only five days ago – seemed like it had been years ago. Five days felt like five months. Five years, even.

Jason recognised the first few notes almost instantly, as did the backing band we always took on tour with us but rarely associated with. Well... I didn't. Nate and Jason might've. Realizing that I didn't even know our drummer's name, I felt instantly guilty. If Mitchie knew, she'd have been totally ashamed of me. How did I not know his name? I shook my head to make myself focus on the song – I could make amends later – and picked up the beat almost immediately, though Nate was the first to sing anyway.

While Nate sung from the piano, I watched as Mitchie walked to the front row and sat down, a smile playing on her lips as she curled her legs up underneath her body to watch us. Just her presence made me feel at ease. Like I could play a million more shows to fans that I didn't know and who didn't know me, singing songs that I hadn't written if she was just there in the front row. Or backstage, which she would be for the next two weeks. The next seven shows.

Seven more shows. Three in New Jersey – including tonight's – then one more in Pennsylvania, where we'd already visited earlier on in the tour but were going back to, and then the final three in the state of New York, ending up in Madison Square Garden on the final night. Thinking about it, it seemed like a lot. Seven was going to be nothing in comparison to the thirty we'd already done. It was going to be over before I knew it. Before I wanted it to be.

Hearing my cue, I started singing, grinning at Mitchie as she mouthed the words back at me, pulling a face. I doubted that this was how she'd expected the end of her week to be, but it looked like it was fun. I hoped she was having fun. Though she'd only been on tour a day. And she hadn't even seen a show yet. So it got better...

Wow. Was I really worrying about her being bored when it was only the first day? I mean, I was bored so often on tour that it was almost normal. But I was going to do everything in my power to stop her being bored? Nate better not find this one out. He'll accuse me of being totally whipped and I'm not even dating the girl.

She's not even interested, so...

"_Hold on tight, it's a rollercoaster ride we're on,"_ I sung, tapping my foot in time with the beat and choosing to save my energy for the show later by not running around and pretending that there was an audience. I just kept my gaze trained either on what the other two members of my band were doing so that I could keep time, or on Mitchie, who was still watching as though she'd never seen anything like this before. Which... thinking about it properly, she probably hadn't. She'd been to concerts... but they were different from being in a practically empty with just you and a band occupying the large space.

A rollercoaster ride would actually be a pretty good way to describe it. Up and down and not knowing which way things are going, but knowing that you kind of like the crazy feeling you get whenever you look at her and find her looking back at you.

I'd almost said something to her the night before. It was midnight and I'd so very nearly worked up the courage to tell her that she was driving me crazy and that it might be weird but I liked her as more than a friend. As more than what we'd agreed to be only four days before. But then she'd moved and broken the eye contact and the moment was gone. And while, if I asked Nate for example, some people might say that it wasn't about the moment, it was just about telling her the truth, it didn't feel right. The moment is important, regardless of what some people say. It needs to be the right time.

The song had managed to finish – I'd sung automatically, without really thinking about it, which is what happened when you did it day in and day out for years – and Nate was standing up to pick up his guitar and practise another song. It wouldn't be too much longer, seeing as we still had to get breakfast (though it was nearing eleven, so it would be more like lunch...) so I figured two more songs maybe? We only had to check that everything sounded okay, and we were professionals at this, after all.

"One more?" Nate piped up. "Can you two handle one more? Because then really, all Shane's work is done and you guys can go and get your food. Me and Jason can finish up."

It was a generous offer – though he had a point; he and Jason usually did it all anyway, because I was a jerk – and I shrugged, looking over at Mitchie for an answer. "We can leave them to it if you're hungry?"

"I don't want to mess anything up..." she brought her shoulders up and bit her lip. Which meant that she was hungry but didn't want to inconvenience us, just put into girl speak.

I opened my mouth to tell her she wouldn't be, but Jason got there first.

"Oh, you wouldn't be. Shane's never usually in sound check anyway. He's only just started getting involved again since he met you. Which is a really big coincid - "

Dropping my microphone on the stage (accidentally-on-purpose, of course) and creating a huge buzz of that audio static that makes everyone wince (and more specifically, stops everyone from speaking) I ignored Nate, who was laughing slightly as he pretended to be inspecting his fretboard. How was a guy supposed to do anything with his two best friends always saying stuff that they shouldn't?

"Okay. We'll take you up on that offer, Nate. And go and get something to eat." I said, before anybody else could say something else that might let something slip. Honestly, they might as well paint 'Shane likes Mitchie' on the drum kit and let the entire world read it.

Okay. Maybe they shouldn't just as well do that, because that might make it a little more obvious than what they're making it right now. And I'd rather not have to explain that one.

Nate just nodded, strumming a tune on his guitar, starting up another song. It was one of the ones that we'd been told to sing; one of the cheesy pop songs that Connect 3 were so well known for but hadn't actually had any say about singing. Acoustically, it didn't sound quite as bad. It was on the track, when the synthesized beats had been added and it had been sped up to the point just before we began to sound like we'd induced helium.

Again, I slipped into a state of not really noticing what was going on around me. Hm. So we were going to get something to eat. Where could we go? I'd never been to this part of New Jersey – I'd been brought up on the other side of the state – and so didn't know anywhere. I'm sure there was a chain somewhere around though. Heck, I'd even settle for McDonalds if I was settling for it with Mitchie eating opposite me. Or next to me, whichever one it was. Opposite was more likely though, seeing as there was only two of us going and most of the time you sat in seats facing each ot... why am I even thinking about it? What did where we were going to sit matter? The point was, we were going to sit. And possibly have a proper conversation, which, seeing as we'd had less than ten or something, was still a novelty for me.

"Shane." Nate's voice was stern as I snapped out of my thoughts and turned to look at him. What had I done? What had I just been singing? Um... oh. Yeah. What?

"What?"

"You messed the lyrics up," he said, as though I were a child of three and needed everything spelt out for me explicitly. "You know what? You two just go off and have fun, okay?"

Mitchie was trying to hide a grin from her face from where she was sitting. She stood up slowly, shrugging at me. "It was an awesome rewrite..."

Uh-oh. What had I said when I'd been engrossed my thoughts? I shot a glance at Nate, who just rolled his eyes at me, gesturing exaggeratedly to the door. Whatever I'd said, it can't have been about Mitchie because otherwise he would've been grinning like an idiot. Which made my worry subside slightly. At least I hadn't said something _too _stupid. And they were letting me go, so who was I to take ages to leave? Taking a long time might allow them to change their minds and tell me to stay for the rest of the check. Nobody wanted that. And I mean nobody.

So, jumping down from the stage in one fluid motion (or so I'd like to think, but nobody outside of that hall would ever know that I stumbled just a little bit as I landed) I smiled at Mitchie and nodded toward the hallway. "Food?"

"Food." She nodded, smiling right back at me. Glancing over at Nate and Jason who were pretending not to watch us by becoming totally riveted by the instruments in their hands, she bit her lip. "Don't they want anything?"

I shook my head. "Nah. They can get their own. Or, if we're feeling nice, we can bring something back for them."

"And are we feeling nice?" She queried, looking away from them and back at me. I liked it when she looked at me. BLAH SHANE THINK STRAIGHT WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN?

Trying not to let my inner screaming at myself show, I shrugged. "Possibly."

She rolled her eyes, taking a few steps towards the door and turning back after those few movements to make sure I was following her. "Are you coming?"

I nodded, catching up to her in two paces, and without a glance back to the stage, we left the hall and walked out into the fall sunlight.

---

"You can't have any." Mitchie shook her head, her brown hair bouncing up and down as she did so and her face defiant – though there was a hint of a smile there, which automatically made me smile too.

I put a pout on my face, trying to sneakily navigate my fork around her hands and everything else that was blocking my way on the table. Hey, it wasn't my fault that she'd ordered something that looked way nicer than what I'd ordered. Note to self: always order what Mitchie's ordering. Because her chocolate chip pancakes looked way nicer than whatever it was that was on my plate.

"Shane. No." She shook her head even more vigorously, trying to move her plate out of the way of my fork, which was getting dangerously close to it. "Why don't you just order your own?"

Because this was more fun. "Because I refuse to believe that you're going to eat all of them?" She was not going to eat all three of those. No way.

Mitchie laughed, her eyebrows raised at me. "Would you like to place a bet on that, Mr. Grey?"

"Actually yes. Yes I would. Because there is no way all three of those could fit inside you. You're way too small for that." She was totally thin. Too thin for her stomach to be big enough to eat all of that. Her expression showed me that she thought otherwise though.

Shrugging, she sat back in her chair, twirling her fork around between her thumb and finger. "I would recommend you not doing that."

I shrugged too, mimicking her actions. "I would recommend that you shared your pancakes with me. But it looks like neither of us are going to listen to the other one, doesn't it?"

We were attracting a few looks – well, I was, seeing as I'm not sure many people would recognise Mitchie. I might have been wrong though – but so far, there had been no interruptions. And I didn't really notice, for the first time in a long time. I didn't care how many people were recognising me, for once. Who cared?

"I guess it does," she said, stabbing into her food with her fork, breaking off a piece and putting it into her mouth. "So..."

I didn't move from my relaxed position in my chair. Shaking my hair from out of my eyes, I watched as she ate, not really feel any resentment for the fact that she was eating right in front of me on purpose. Because she was. But it was okay; she'd give in and let me have some in time. I just knew it.

"I think we should carry on our game," I said, the thought suddenly striking me. It was the first time we'd actually been alone and face-to-face since that night. And if I remembered correctly, I still had at least fourteen questions left.

A confused expression clouded her face for a few seconds, as she presumably tried to remember which game it was I was talking about, but she soon worked it out, a smile spreading across her face as she broke off another piece. "Hm. Well... okay."

I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table and racking my brains to think of a question that I could ask. "Okay, so my turn. Cool."

"Um... I think you'll find it was my turn," she corrected, her eyes shimmering and her fork pointed in my direction. Which I was okay with, as long as she didn't randomly decide to plunge it into any part of my body. That would have sucked.

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall who had been the last person to ask a question. It had been a few days ago, and very late at night, so I couldn't remember exactly. Was it her turn? I was sure it was mine. Though I have been known to be a bit of a wishful thinker. "It was?"

She nodded, looking back down at her pancakes. "Uh-huh. You asked me about my family. And then we got to your bus and everything else went down. My turn to ask you a question."

Wow she had a good memory. Which sucked for me – I preferred asking the questions – but I couldn't deny it. She was right; I could vaguely recollect it. Nodding, I gestured for her to go first and then sat back, preparing myself for whatever was to come.

Mitchie chewed on her lip, glancing up at me for a few seconds before looking back down at her place. "I... okay. What is the best day of your life? So far, obviously." It didn't look as though she was planning on asking that one initially, but I didn't dispute it. I might've been wrong. But it was just the look in her eyes, and the glance that she gave me. I didn't know.

"Um..." I shrugged, thinking hard. When was the best day of my life? It was hard to distinguish when the best day was, because I'd had so many bad days. And I'd had days that I'd tried to convince myself were the best days of my life, but I could see flaws in them all. Best day? "My first day at Camp Rock. I met Jason and Nate and we realized how awesome it would be to make a band. We wrote our first song that day, sitting by the lake, and while it totally sucks when I remember the lyrics now, back then it was amazing. We didn't have any expectations to live up to. There was nobody telling us what kind of music to make or what to sing. We were who we wanted to be, and that's always the best feeling in the world."

Mitchie nodded at my answer, picking at her pancakes slightly. She'd polished off one of them, but the other two didn't look like they were in danger of being gorged upon. Unless she let me at them, that is. "Okay. Your turn."

I had to think for a few seconds before I came up with a question. It was harder than it seemed. Sure, when you had the ability to ask someone anything, a lot of things came to mind. But I didn't want to freak Mitchie out. I didn't want to get too personal, too quickly. And the things that I wanted to know – mainly, why did she want to come on the tour? Did she like me? - seemed like things that I could never think about asking her. The question that came out though, was just about right for a game like this. "What's one thing you've never said out loud to anybody else? Something about you." I added that last part, just in case she was smarter than I anticipated and answered with something stupid like 'there's an armadillo in your rucksack'. Because I didn't think she'd have said that out loud to anybody else. And if she had, that was incredibly weird.

"I want to be a singer," she stated, after a few seconds of absolute silence. "I haven't ever let anybody else hear me sing. Or hear my songs. I just... I pretend I can't. Which probably isn't the best way to get myself out there, but I can't help it. I want to do what you do, which is why I had so much resentment for you to begin with. I hated the fact that you were living this amazing life, doing what I had always wanted to do, and yet you were throwing it away. Before I knew the whole story, I honestly believed that you had no idea what you had. You had no idea that people would kill to be in your position. But I want that. It's like... I can't imagine myself doing anything else. When people ask me what I want to do when I'm older, I pretend I don't know, or I make something up. But inside I'm screaming that I want to sing. And I don't know why I don't tell them, or tell Cait and let her hear me or anything... I just feel as though it's pointless. Because while I can't imagine myself doing anything else... I can't imagine how it's ever going to happen for me."

She fell silent, scanning my face. I couldn't see my exact reaction, but I could envision what it looked like. I felt guilty. I felt sympathy. I felt confidence to help her get what she wanted. I felt so many things in so little time. Sitting forward, I impulsively reached for one of her hands, just like I'd wanted to do so badly when I'd called her on that school day and she'd been so upset. She didn't stop me.

"Mitchie. You're an amazing singer. The best I've ever heard. And I'm not just saying that. I know that you can do whatever you set your mind to. If it can happen to me, why not to you? But you just have to have faith in yourself. You have to look in the mirror and see what I see. This amazing girl, who is way more pretty than she gives herself credit for and is so much more talented than she realizes."

I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying. The words were just spilling out of my mouth; uncontrollable. But I didn't want to control them. I didn't need to control them. They were what I needed to say. They were what she needed to hear.

The silence that passed between us was like it had been the night before. That tense silence that you want to break, but at the same time don't. Because I was looking into her eyes and she was looking into mine and if that eye contact never ended, I could've died happy.

"Shane..." she began, my name falling from her lips as a whisper.

"OH MY GOSH, IT'S SHANE GREY!" A cry from behind us alerted my attention, and I closed my eyes in frustration. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why?

Mitchie sighed, looking at the pancakes in front of her and then pushing them away. Then she looked past my shoulder to where the voice was coming from, smiling at whoever was there. "Aw, Shane. It's a little kid."

I frowned. "I don't care who it is, they need to stop bothering me in a public forum. What? I can't be a normal person?"

She rolled her eyes at me, standing up and pushing her chair back, walking over to the little kid who had exclaimed my identity at the top of their lungs. Now we were attracting a lot more looks. I turned around to watch her, as Mitchie crouched down to the level of the small child and smiled.

"Hey. What's your name?"

The kid looked from me to her, the admiration and nervousness evident in her eyes. She was about ten, her blonde hair tied up in two pigtails. She was a cute kid. But still, didn't her parents teach her manners? As in, not to interrupt two people in the middle of a conversation? "Abby..."

Mitchie grinned at her. "That's a really nice name. I've always liked that name. So, Abby... are you a fan of Connect 3?"

Abby nodded, mutely.

I couldn't help but admire Mitchie's handling of the situation. I'd always gotten annoyed at fans approaching me. She was new to this whole thing, but she was just being nice. She was being herself. And while this little girl didn't know who she was, Abby was already liking her, just because she was being nice. That and the fact that she was with me.

"Shane?" Mitchie was looking up at me from her lowered position on the floor. She didn't even seem fazed by the people watching and whispering around us. Maybe it was that they weren't her schoolmates. Maybe it was because she had something to concentrate on. Or maybe she'd just gotten more confident. "Shane. Sign the napkin for her."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

"Shane. Imagine if you were walking into a diner to get lunch and you saw Johnny Rotten sitting eating food. Or Mick Jones. Or Joe Strummer. Are you telling me that you would not interrupt their meal in order to get an autograph?" Mitchie was looking up at me, a stern look on her face. I knew that she wasn't going to drop this. And I also knew that she had a point. I probably would freak out slightly.

"I don't..." Well... I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Mitchie stood up, her hands on her hips. Then she grabbed the napkin and turned to one of the waiters, who was watching as though in a trance. "Excuse me? Do you have a pen we can borrow?" When the guy handed one over, his hand trembling slightly, she shoved them both into my hands and stared at me. "Sign it. Look. You're Shane Grey. This is what is expected of you. Sure, people think you're a jerk and that you're this egotistical jackass, but that isn't you. I know that isn't you. And you claim to want to change it. But look around, Shane. All of these people have just witnessed you not wanting to do something as simple as sign an autograph for a little girl. You want people to think you've changed like I know you have? Sign it. Take a picture. Smile a little. You're Shane Grey; enjoy it."

I looked up at her for a few seconds, just taking in how amazing she was when she was confident and standing up for what she thought. How brilliant it was that she was still there, telling me to do what was right instead of walking away. I nodded, standing up and walking over to Abby, who was still looking slightly shellshocked.

"Hey. What's up?" I said, feeling kind of awkward. I couldn't remember the last time fan interaction had been like this. I didn't know what to do, what to say.

Abby shrugged, her voice high pitched as she replied. "Not much."

I smiled, holding the pen in my hands and writing on the napkin: _Abby. It was great to meet you. I love your pigtails! Glad you're a Connect 3 fan; keep singing those songs. Love, Shane Grey._ I handed her the napkin and her fingers clasped it, her hand shaking. She beamed at me; a beam that lit up my heart. She was happy. I'd made her happy, just by signing a ratty old napkin. "You want a picture? Is your mom or dad around?"

The little girl nodded, pointing in the direction of one of the booths, where a man was sitting smiling at us. I waved. "Do you have a camera phone or something?"

He stood up, nodding. His phone was out within seconds, and he held it up to capture an image of his daughter and the famous singer she'd met in the diner. "Say cheese."

Two camera clicks went off, confusing me slightly. Turning my head to where Mitchie was standing, I watched her, grinning as she pocketed her own phone.

"What are you - "

She shrugged, the smile on her face as innocent as she could make it. "Just getting proof that Shane Grey can be a nice guy."

I rolled my eyes in her direction, turning to Abby who looked so happy that she could burst. Leaning in closer, I whispered in her ear, watching Mitchie out of the corner of my eye as a confused expression crossed her face.

"Can you do me a favor?" I whispered, pretending it was something big. Which, in a way, it was. I waited for her to nod, and she did so. "Can you go and tell Mitchie that she's really pretty? And that she should share some of her pancakes with me?"

Abby giggled, nodding. "Thank you Shane." Giving me a quick hug – which took me by surprise – she bounded over to Mitchie and tugged on her arm until she bent down to receive the message. I watched as she listened, her eyes lighting up as she heard what Abby had to say. Then she rolled her eyes and glanced at me. "You're insane, Grey."

"Nope." I shook my head. "Just hungry."

Rolling her eyes again, she stood up properly, looking down at the little girl that had changed so much without even meaning to. She'd spoken to me at first when I was all ready to turn around and bite her head off, and then Mitchie had done it again. Shown me what was right and who I used to be. "It was nice to meet you sweetheart."

Abby smiled, running back to her father and beginning a conversation with him almost immediately. He was grateful; I could see that. He'd probably heard about me too. As had a lot of the other people here. Standing up, I looked around at everyone. Some were pretending not to watch me, whereas others were just watching without a care. Nobody else looked like they were going to approach for autographs though. Not that I wanted to take that chance.

"Do you want these, Pop Star?" Mitchie asked, still standing up but looking down at the cold pancakes. They didn't look all that appetizing now that they were cold. And it was better to just get back to the bus. We'd caused a bit of a scene – as nice of a scene as it was – and anybody could have called the press. I didn't want to get Mitchie involved in all of that. Not yet. We still needed to prepare her. People would find out at the tour tonight, but at least we had a few hours to prepare her for what it would be like...

I shook my head. "Want to just go back and see how Nate and Jason are doing?"

She looked up at me, shrugging. "Sure thing."

I walked over to the till, handing over more money than what was necessary and refusing to take any change. It was money. I had enough of it. And what was money anyway? Money couldn't buy happiness, I knew that from experience.

Mitchie was standing at the door, holding it open for me to walk through and I did, both of us falling into step with each other almost instantly. She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. "That was a really nice thing you did in there. You made that little girl's year."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for you. You... you've shown me that I need to try harder. If I want to get rid of this whole jerk persona, I need to think about what I'm doing. And when Abby grinned like that..."

She stopped dead. "Whoa. Who are you and what have you done with Shane Grey?"

I laughed, turning towards her and walking backwards away from the restaurant. "I'm not sure. But I don't think I'll be changing back anytime soon. Is that okay with you?"

"It's more than okay."

The look on her face was hard to describe, but it was gone within seconds. I barely got a glimpse of it. Instead, it was replaced with a mischievous expression as she caught up to me and grinned. "Race you back to the bus."

And with those six words, she was running ahead, not even looking back at me.

I sighed, watching her run for a few seconds, before shaking my head and laughing. "You got a major head start there, Torres! So not fair!"


	15. Know Her Name

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ I wanted to get something up for you amazing people before I go to my concert tomorrow and am unable to update on a Friday night. I know you'd wait patiently, but I love you too much to make you wait. So this chapter might not be great, but it's a (kind of) filler and so isn't too vital. I just hope you like it and it lives up to this story's 200 reviews! Amazing! I'm still mind-blown by the support and the fact that you all think I'm so good. SO I'LL HAVE AN UPDATE FOR YOU WHEN I GET BACK FROM SEEING MCFLY. Thanks again – I always say that, but I always mean it._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Camp Rock isn't mine. Simple as._

_**Music:**__ 5 Colors In Her Hair - McFly_

"_**Everybody wants to know her name"**_

Everything was buzzing. It was half an hour before the show and being backstage was crazier than standing outside with the screaming fangirls. And what was crazier, was the knowledge that literally only five days ago, I had been amongst those crazy fangirls. Saying that I was one might have been going a bit too far, but I'd been standing in the crowd with them. And now I was here. Backstage. Watching Shane Grey get ready to go on, and feeling my heart almost melt as he shot me a smile from where he was standing, pretending to listen to Jeff, who was going through the set with them one more time.

God, I needed to stop this. I'd almost kissed him in that diner earlier, after he said those amazing things about me. He said I was pretty and talented and he said it all with such conviction. And then the way he'd acted with that little girl... I mean sure, I'd had to prompt him to do it, but when he finally got his act together... well, he was great. So great. I sighed, dropping my gaze to the floor. This was not what I had intended...

I needed to call Caitlin. Stat. She'd have advice, useful or not. And any advice would be better than what I had right now. Which was nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Turning away from the stage, I pulled out my cell phone and pushed open the stage door behind me, breathing in the fall air. It was cold, which meant that I would not be on the phone for too long -freezing to death was not on my to do list – but I had to get some sort of advice.

Caitlin had to be some sort of help.

She answered almost instantly; I swear, it hadn't even rung twice before she picked up and practically screamed my name down the phone line. Whoever else was in the room with her must have been both deafened and slightly weirded out. I mean, I was both of those things and I was miles away. "Mitchie! How are you? What's happening? Are you having so much fun? I bet you are. School was so amazing today; your name was everywhere and people were kicking themselves for not believing you. As if suddenly being nice after years of just ignoring someone was going to get them free tickets to a Connect 3 concert, yeah right. And everyone kept coming up and asking me what the deal was and whether you guys were dating or whatever and I took so much satisfaction in telling them that they'd asked you on tour with them. The look on Rochelle's face was priceless. I wish I'd had a camera, because it was the most amazing thing in the entire world. A Kodak moment if there ever was one."

The onslaught of information thrown at me by Caitlin was almost too much to process, but I took full advantage if her pause for breath and butted in with something I knew she would scream even more at and be forced to reply to. Well, I might as well cut to the chase. "I think I like Shane."

There was silence on the other end of the line, which I hadn't been predicting, but after a few seconds of just waiting for a reaction to show me that she was still alive out there in Massachusetts, I got what I'd been expecting. She screamed. Really, really loud. "Mitchie! I knew it! See, didn't I call it? I so called it. Before you'd even met him, I said that you'd find him totally hot after that concert and you so did and oh yes, I am obviously amazing but good! Have you told him?"

I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of this idea. Told him? Yeah, right. I was not going to humiliate myself on my first day of touring with him and admit that I liked him. He'd laugh at me. I'd have to go home. We'd known each other for five days for goodness sake. That was too crazy. You couldn't know whether you liked someone after five days, could you?

Except... I did. And as weird as it sounds, I couldn't actually envision a time when I hadn't liked him. I knew there was such a time - heck, less than a week ago – but in such a short time, Shane had affected my life to the extent that I honestly couldn't imagine my life without him.

"No, I haven't told him. What are you, crazy? That wouldn't go down well at all. He would never like me back like that, are you kidding?"

I leant against the wall of the building, my head tilting back against the brickwork and my eyes closing almost automatically. When I closed my eyes I could pretend that she was sitting right next to me. Wow. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed my best friend until I heard her voice. And I'd been gone less than a day. I'd gone longer than this without seeing her, even when we were in the same town. It was just the fact that I knew that it wouldn't take me mere minutes to find her if I wanted to talk to her. Like now. Because I was in a different state. Hours and hours away.

"Mitchie! Don't do this. Don't turn into the typical heroine of every romantic movie. They all deny that their hero could ever like them back and look what happens. They turn out wrong. Because they always, always end up together. Always. Don't make me list every movie in which this happens, because so help me God, I will."

Rolling my eyes, I didn't doubt her for a second. It would be so like Cait to do that. She'd go online and not let the conversation stop until one of two things happened. One, she got to the end of the list of every movie in which the two main characters live happily ever after (which could take a very, very, very long time). Or two, I caved. Which was looking to be the more likely end to that scenario, as much as I didn't want it to be. "I just... I've known him five days, Caitlin. And every time I look into his eyes and feel my stomach do a weird flip-flop, I have to remind myself that I have known him for less than a week. Less than a week, Cait. How can I justify feeling like this when I barely know him?"

My best friend laughed, and it was from that laugh that I knew that I probably wouldn't particularly like the next words to come out of her mouth. "Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight, Mitchie?"

Love. At. First. Sight. Seriously? What was wrong with my best friend? How did such ideas even begin to enter her head? Sometimes I seriously wondered whether it was worth seeking professional help for her. This was one of those times. "It happens in all the movies. But not in real life. Real life isn't like Hollywood."

"Maybe it can be. Maybe it has the potential to be. You just have to open your mind and embrace the fact that this could be it. I don't want to sound like I'm lecturing you, Mitchie, especially as I've only met him once... but everyone acknowledged it. He's been different since he met you. And you've been different since you met him, though you might not have noticed it. But there is no way that you could have had such an effect on him if he didn't like you. And then I watched him yesterday. In that crowd, he had eyes for only you. He totally took down a girl he didn't even know, because he knew she'd upset you. He wanted _you _to go on tour with him. He gave up his bed for you. And when you got on that bus after saying goodbye to all of us, he looked..."

I couldn't hear anymore. Everything that she was saying was sinking in and I could understand where she was coming from, sure. But she was _wrong. _She didn't know everything. She could have been seeing what she wanted to see. She could have been reading him wrong. Caitlin was my best friend – of course she was going to say these things. "Caitlin. I can't. I can't tell him."

"Mitchie..."

I should have known, I cursed myself mentally. I should have known that she'd try to convince me to tell him. And I should have known that I would refuse and then everything would just be awkward. Because have you ever tried carrying on a conversation after you've stubbornly rejected any offering of advice given to you? Yeah, I didn't think it would be all that great. Groaning, I slid down the wall, crouching on the floor. Well there was no way I was going to sit on it. It was all wet and gross.

"Caitlin, I have to go. The show is going to start."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a lie. The show was going to start. Reasonably soon. And Shane was probably looking for me, seeing as I had just left without warning. So I probably did have to go, because I didn't know if I was missed. I still felt really bad for twisting the truth. But there was no alternative, as far as I was concerned. I had to get out of the conversation. I had to pretend that I was fine and dandy and go and watch the show and admire from afar.

I heard her sigh and knew that she wasn't completely convinced. Though I was a horrible liar, I knew that much. And Caitlin had known me for years, so she was bound to be able to tell when my truths weren't fully truthful. "Okay. Well... call me later?"

"I will," I said, knowing that I probably wouldn't. Not today anyway. Maybe tomorrow. A new day; a new lease of life. A new hoard of excuses to come up with.

We said our strained goodbyes, me hanging up the phone before I could feel any guiltier about it. I hated lying to Caitlin in any shape or form, but sometimes it was just... necessary. Like now. I'd only just admitted it to myself; how could I turn around and just tell Shane? I'd meant what I said. In my mind, there was no way I could justify liking someone after knowing them for a grand total of five days. It just didn't happen.

And yet... it obviously did. Or else I wouldn't be in this position. I'd be completely at ease with the entire situation and not having to watch what I said or did or even thought. Because I needed to get over this. I needed to. He was Shane Grey, for crying out loud. He could have any of the amazing looking celebrities that he wanted. So I needed to just... be happy with what we had. A friendship.

"Argh!" I screamed, not really caring that I'd attracted the attention of some of the people standing further along. They weren't close enough to have heard what I was saying to Caitlin, but screaming generally does attract people's attention. Not many people just burst out into a random scream like I'd just done. Throwing my head back against the wall, I didn't really feel much satisfaction as it connected with the brickwork. Just pain. Pain, pain, pain. But at least the pain reminded me that I could feel something other than what I felt for Shane. That was good, right?

Taking a deep breath, I stood up properly and shook my head. These thoughts had to stop now. I had to go back in there, watch the amazing concert and then congratulate Shane for an awesome show. That was what was important right now. "Pull yourself together, Mitchie." I muttered to myself, shaking my head once more and turning back to the stage door that had shut behind me. Pulling it open, I bit my lip and stepped back into the backstage area, where Connect 3 were just about to grace the stage with their first song.

Shane caught my eye just as he was about to bound on – I could tell he'd been looking for me while I'd been outside talking to Cait – but when he saw me, he shot a grin in my direction.

Pushing the bubbly feeling that was making my stomach tie itself in knots as far down as it would go, I smiled back, putting my thumbs in the air. Break a leg, Pop Star, I thought to myself as I watched the lights go down and him bound out into position as the screaming increased to amazing decibels. Just... not literally.

---

"Thank you guys! I don't think you realize how amazing you've been!" Shane called, grinning out at the audience that he'd been entertaining for the past hour. He was watching them, I was watching him. And he looked so happy. I mean it. At the Cohasset concert, he'd been okay. He'd been a pretty good faker. But here...

Nate yelled a goodbye, followed by Jason, who threw a guitar pick out into the audience and watched as about ten girls scrabbled to catch it. I had to admit, it was funny to see people acting like such... crazy people over something as trivial as a guitar pick.

The lights went out, and seconds later I was joined by three very sweaty guys, all of whom had just rocked out on a stage. Nate and Jason high-fived me as I grinned at them. "You guys were awesome, as per usual. And by 'you guys' I obviously meant Nate and Jason," I said, directing my comment in the direction of Shane, who was just watching me. "I have no idea what the heck you were doing." The grin on my face probably gave me away, but I didn't particularly care. I don't think it would've removed itself, even if I had cared. But I didn't. So it was okay.

"Oh, really? Then explain why you couldn't take your eyes off of me." Shane's raised eyebrow indicated that he didn't actually know if I'd been watching him or not – he was totally seeing whether I'd admit to something if I thought he saw it – and so I rolled my eyes, hoping that I hadn't blushed too visibly. That could have gotten me into a sticky situation.

"My eyes weren't on you, Pop Star. And when they were, it was in horror at how crazy you looked, prancing around on stage."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that one. I could tell from the momentary look of surprise that crossed his face. It was pretty awesome, bringing surprise to Shane Grey. He'd surprised me enough, what with the whole ability to be a nice guy thing, and his _real _songs, and his willingness to be way more honest than I'd ever anticipated. I liked the fact that I could give back what he gave me, even if I didn't manage it quite as much as he did.

"... I looked crazy? Really?"

He was genuinely worried about this, and I laughed, stepping forward and shaking my head. I couldn't keep up the pretence if it was actually worrying him, could I? That would be too mean. Extending my hand in order to give him the same high-five treatment that I'd given his two band members, I grinned at him. "You were awesome. I mean... in a totally-different-from-the-Clash way."

Rolling his eyes at me, he ignored the hand and took me by surprise (see, didn't I tell you? He constantly surprised me) by pulling me into a hug. I didn't know what to do. Hug him back? Pull away before I did something that I'd end up regretting? Just... standing there seemed stupid. So I went with the first option.

"I'm glad you were here, watching it," he said, stepping away from me and looking into my eyes before something flashed in his dark pupils and he looked away, down at the floor.

I nodded, shrugging. "Yeah. I'm glad I was too. It's... fun."

"See if you're still saying that when we get back in the bus. Another day of driving. Another day of the road. And then we get to see my family, which will be exciting for us both." Shane put his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans (a feat that I'm amazed he accomplished, seeing as they're _skinny jeans _and oh my God, did I seriously just think that I need help right now ugh ugh ugh) and looked back up from the floor.

See his family? Really? It might have sounded odd, but I wasn't really able to envision Shane Grey with a family. I mean... he obviously had one. He had to have. But I just couldn't see him hugging his mom, or playing soccer with his dad or having any siblings. "It might not be exciting for you, but I'm kinda intrigued."

"You would be," Shane replied, grinning. "They're not very exciting people."

"And my family are?" I challenged, thinking about my mom and dad. They weren't exactly the epitome of exciting. Sitting around the kitchen table for dinner and rarely ever going out. My mom and dad were hardly exciting at all.

"More exciting than mine," he replied, his eyes laughing at me. "Okay, so that might be open to discussion, but still. If you're expecting glitz and glamour, you'll be surprised."

I shrugged again. "I'm finding myself surprised by a lot of things when it comes to you." It wasn't that I hadn't meant to say it, because I'd known full well that it was coming out of my mouth. But I still didn't want to see how he took it. So I just kept my gaze fixed on where various stage hands were dismantling the drum kit and putting everything away and back on the bus that shipped the instruments around. I wondered how many people had left already.

"Mitchie..." He began, and I involuntarily switched my gaze to his face. I was reminded of the previous night, in the kitchen. Was I going to find out what he would have said? Because I sure wasn't going to interrupt this time. I wanted to hear it. Whatever it was.

Apparently though, somebody else didn't. "Shane! Mitchie! All aboard! We need to hit the road if we want to get to your parents tomorrow. You guys'll have to make dinner on the bus."

Shane sighed, before catching himself and looking at me, putting a smile on his face. It wasn't altogether convincing though. Even if I had known him for five days, I knew him well enough to know when he was faking a smile. "C'mon then, Roof Girl. I hope you're okay with cereal for dinner, because that's all we know how to make."

Cereal? For dinner? I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head. "Are you kidding me? You're nearing twenty, and you can't cook anything?"

He looked slightly embarrassed, shrugging. "Well..."

"Wow. Well, you obviously picked the right person to come on tour with you. Being the daughter of a caterer, I happen to be fairly good in the kitchen," I said, kind of annoyed that the moment had been ruined. Yet again. But maybe it was a sign. Maybe me and Shane were never meant to have conversations like that. Maybe I should accept it as a sign that Shane and I were only ever going to be friends.

"You are?" His eyes lit up, as though he hadn't had a proper meal in forever. Which, considering how long this tour had been going on, wasn't too hard to believe. "That's awesome. We'll... probably have to get some proper food for you to cook with though..."

I rolled my eyes, turning my head at another call of our names from over by the door. Nate was beckoning for us to move, seeing as we hadn't since the concert had ended. "I'm sure we'll find something for tonight."

Shane's face twisted slightly at the use of the word 'we'. Which yes, had been intentional. "When you say we..."

I turned and started walking over to the door. "I meant it. Don't think that you're getting to eat any if you don't help!" He might have been a pop star, but that didn't mean that he was getting any preferential treatment. And teaching him how to cook could be totally fun.

"I really don't think that's a good - " He caught up with me, and we pushed open the stage door at the same time, watching each other. As in... not paying attention to what was going on out there. Though maybe we should've. Because the next thing I knew, a flash was blinding me and a hoard of voices were calling Shane's name.

"Who's your friend, Shane?"

"Are you two dating?"

"She's the girl you were pictured with in Massachusetts, right Shane?"

Shane jumped in front of me, while I turned around and took in the shocked look on Nate and Jason's faces. Apparently they hadn't known what was facing us outside the door either. And a furious looking Jeff was storming our way, leading me to believe that he hadn't had a clue either. Well, it was good to know we weren't the only ones kept in the dark.

"What the hell are you people doing here?" The manager yelled, throwing his arms in the air. "I call the press conferences around here!"

Shane turned and looked at me, forcing me to look in his eyes. In them was a mixture of concern and determination. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He glanced back at the mob, wincing. "We have to get through them, Mitch. We can't go around the front, because it'll be worse. Is that okay?"

It wasn't the time to laugh, but I did anyway. This whole thing was insane. People wanted to know about me? And they were mobbing around to try and find out my name? That was crazy. I hadn't even done anything worth acknowledging. "It'll have to be, won't it? Why do they...?"

"Because you know me. Because they think... they think..."

I knew what they thought. And I knew how bad it was that they thought that. But I couldn't help envy their world. In their minds, Shane and I were an item. And it would be awesome to live in their minds, even for just a second. Or... maybe more than a second. A minute. I could kiss him and appreciate it in a minute.

Shane didn't finish the sentence; just turned around and nodded to Nate and Jason, who began to steer their way through the crowd, ignoring the questions being thrown in their direction. They were evidently used to this. More used to this than I ever would be, I thought. But I didn't have time to wonder how they managed to blank out the interrogation, because the next thing I knew Shane had grabbed my hand (and ugh, I suppose I might as well admit I had a tiny, little fangirl freakout over this tiny, little thing) and was pulling me straight into the midst of the crowd.

"What's your name, little girl?"

"How old are you?"

"How does it feel dating Shane?"

It was crazy. I wanted to reply to them all: "MY NAME IS MITCHIE." "I'M EIGHTEEN IN TWO DAYS." "I'M NOT DATING HIM." But I didn't have time. I was being dragged through; no time to pause. No time to pause that is, until one person specifically stepped out between me and Shane, breaking our hands apart.

I shot a panicked look in his direction as he turned around, trying to dodge around and get me out of there. I wanted out of there.

"Tell me your name, and I'll let you past."

The guy standing in front of me was middle-aged, a camera around his neck and had obviously been doing this for a while. What a sad life. Following people and butting into their lives. How could that satisfy anybody? Though... I suppose if it paid the bills.

"Let her past," Shane demanded, still trying to get around. The guy was too good for him though, easily blocking his way.

"When she states her name, I will."

All sense of panic drained away from me, and I folded my arms, looking at him with a smirk on my face. "How about you tell me your name first? Or I could guess? Rude? Obnoxious? How about Rumpelstiltskin?"

"I don't have time for games, missy."

I rolled my eyes. This was beyond stupid. He didn't have time for games? Well funnily enough, I didn't have much time for them either. So he could just step aside and everything would be absolutely fine. "Wow. And I thought Shane used to be a jerk."

This spurred more questions from everyone around me, who were still jostling. Shane, who had been looking lividly at the guy, was now watching me with a slightly amused expression on his face.

"So are you gonna move, or will I have to stand here with a million pictures being taken per second all night?" I asked, my eyebrow raising slowly. I had no idea where this confidence was coming from, but every time I snuck a glance at Shane and saw him smiling at me, I felt it getting bigger. The confidence. I could have taken on the world.

The paparazzi guy in front of me just cocked an eyebrow right back, and I sighed. He wasn't going to co-operate. Jackass. So I raised my voice, addressing everyone. "I'm Mitchie Torres. Google it and you won't find much, because I'm a nobody. I'm eighteen in two days. I'm not dating Shane Grey and even though most of you won't believe me, I'm telling the truth. So put that on your various gossip sites and in your magazines, and I'll be sure to buy a copy." I looked back at the jerk in front of me. "Can I go now? I'd kind of like to be able to get something to eat this side of midnight, and seeing as I'm the only one capable of cooking on this tour..."

At least he wasn't arrogant enough to demand more of me – I'd already given him more information than he wanted – and he stepped aside at once. And that was when what I'd just done sunk in, and my face flushed. Dodging over to Shane, I avoided eye contact with him and ran over to where Nate and Jason had been watching the occurrence. They pulled themselves together (the gormless expressions on their faces told me that I'd shocked them too) and bundled me on the bus, Jason getting on immediately after me so that I was protected from the flashes that were still going on.

As soon as I was on I rushed over to the window, glancing out but still trying to keep myself hidden from view. Shane had his back to me, saying something to one of the reporters, but everyone in the crowd was drinking in every word. I couldn't hear what was being said, but they were scribbling it down like mad. I'd probably find it online later.

"You were amazing, Mitchie," Jason said, standing next to me. "Some people never get used to that sort of thing. And it was like you'd been practising for years."

I looked over at him and smiled. "Thanks Jason. But I'm totally shaking." To show him, I lifted a hand and showed him the quivering. The confidence that I'd shown back then was scary. I had no idea how I'd managed it. To just be able to stand up and say what I was thinking. I mean... I'd said I liked surprising Shane. I think I managed to surprise myself.

"That doesn't matter. Nobody's gonna mess with you now. I'm almost scared," Jason grinned at me, and I felt an admiration for the oldest member of Connect 3. Sure, people thought he wasn't the brightest... but that didn't matter. He was the nicest.

"I promise not to turn on you," I smiled right back, an idea forming in my head. If I could handle it, it would be amazing. But could I handle it? Could I trust him? I was sure he wouldn't intentionally break any promise he made, but maybe unintentionally? "If you help me..." I'd never know if I didn't ask.

He looked at me, a curious expression on his face. "How can I help you?"

I opened my mouth to reply, when the sound of the doors closing interrupted and I turned to see Shane at the door, grinning at me widely. Shaking my head at Jason, I shrugged it off. "Doesn't matter. I'll talk to you about it later?"

Jason still looked confused, but didn't press the matter. Instead he turned to the television, as the engine started up, and pressed the button to turn it on. I didn't bother checking what he turned on, because the next thing I knew, Shane was next to me and laughing. "Mitchie! That was amazing! I... I don't know what to say. They like you. They definitely like you."

I don't know if this was a good thing or not. But I didn't really think I wanted to know, so I just shrugged. "I have no idea where it came from, if I'm honest. I just... he was there and there was all these questions..."

"You were great." Nate chipped in from where he was sitting, writing on his laptop.

"You really were." Shane nodded in agreement. "You handled it amazingly..."

I looked away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly already and not wanting to make it any worse. Think of something to say, Mitchie. Anything. Taking a deep breath, I gestured to the kitchen. "You wanted a proper meal? Because it's late already and depending on what you have, it might take a while..."

Shane just smiled at me, which was odd. I'd fully expected him to start protesting again. Start telling me that he didn't think it was a good idea. Which was ridiculous. He had to learn how to cook at some point. "Lead the way, Roof Girl. Though I'm beginning to think I need a new nickname for you."

I made a face as I made my way into the kitchen, knowing that he was behind me. "What? Why?"

He leaned up against the counter, as he had done the last time we'd met in the kitchen, and shrugged. "Because 'Princess of Paparazzi Put-Downs' just seems way better."

I had to laugh, pulling open one of the cupboards and finding a lonely packet of pasta in there. Well, it was a start. I smiled at him, putting the pasta down on the counter. "Princess of Paparazzi Put-Downs? Isn't that a bit of a mouthful?"

"Maybe so. But worth it, don't you agree?"

Taking a pristine saucepan out of another cupboard, I thrust it into his hands. "Fill that with water, Pop Star. We can talk while I'm teaching you to cook."

He shot a smile in my direction, one so dazzling that I swear I could have melted (but I didn't because that would have been embarrassing...) and put one hand on his forehead in a mock salute. "Whatever you say, Your Highness. Whatever you say."


	16. Razor Sharp

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Most amazing concert ever. McFly were awesome, I lost my voice and so sound TERRIBLE on all the recordings I made of the show and me and my friends were so hyper that we didn't sleep until 5 in the morning. Good times. But I'm nursing my sore throat now, listening to every single McFly album I own (which is all of them) and figured I'd give you another chapter. It's not like I have anything else to be doing (and no, English homework doesn't count... shh, I'm procrastinating). As always, I hope you like this one! I'm sorry not much happens and that it's kinda short, but I just wanted to show Shane's reaction to the last chapter and add some more lovely tension between them. The next two chapters will be better – I'll write both of them and update with them both, because they're both going to be centred at Shane's mum and dad's. And go and read my other story – it's gonna be a compilation of oneshots set to McFly songs, because I was inspired (and obsessed...). And I'm already working on another one too, so I think it's safe to say that I'm officially addicted to writing for Camp Rock. Which I hope is a good thing...? 3!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Camp Rock is not mine._

_**Music:**__ You're All That I Have – Snow Patrol_

"_**You're cinematic, razor sharp, a welcome arrow through the heart"**_

I placed the pan she had handed me – now full of water, like instructed – on the counter and leaned against it, waiting for further directions to be given. Cooking was not my thing, hence the reason I usually made do with some cereal or ice cream. I didn't need to cook them. Or I went out for dinner. The Shane that I had been a few days previously would have seen no point in making meals when you could go out and get someone else to make it for you. Alright, I still couldn't totally see the point, but it was different. It just was.

Watching Mitchie as she pulled out some of the vegetables that we'd been given by a random fan about a week before. Would they still be okay? I knew food went off. And grew fur. But Mitchie inspected it, her brown hair hanging over her face slightly, obstructing me of a perfect view of her face, and seemed to come to the conclusion that it'd be fine. She straightened up, pushing her hair from in front of her face and I took the chance to just... watch. I was bored easily, but it was weird. I could watch her for hours if I had to. Even if she wasn't doing something half as amazing as standing up to paparazzi or getting me to sign an autograph for a young fan.

Awestruck would be a good way to describe it. Shell-shocked. Amazed. Totally and completely and utterly full of admiration. The way Mitchie just... stood there and dealt with the situation. I'd wanted to protect her; keep her away from the inevitable questions that she shouldn't have to answer, because it wasn't like she'd chosen this life. I might've chosen it. Mitchie didn't really sign any contract saying that people could follow her around and demand her life story. I saw the press and just... I wanted to snap my fingers and transport her onto the bus, away from them all. Because I could tell what would happen. She'd stumble over what she was saying, or be just a little bit too vague and the next thing we knew, she'd be on the cover of every tabloid as having admitted to something or other. They'd twist her words. It happened.

But she had been amazing. In mere seconds she had gone from shooting me this panicked look because our fingers had lost contact and she'd been caught by a particularly hated member of the paparazzi, to this confident, sarcastic, awesomely cool and collected Mitchie Torres, who could handle the press as though she'd done it a million times before. And sure, once she'd achieved what she wanted – for that jerk reporter to move out of the way – she reverted back to her normal self; becoming a little more introverted, fleeing from the confrontation. But that didn't matter. I knew that it was there.

Which is why I decided to have my say. I knew that Jeff was trying to get me to just ignore it and get on the bus, because he wanted to get to my mom and dad's, but I couldn't. These people were like parasites. Once they had some, they wanted a little bit more. Sucking as much dirt out of people and their lives as possible. I had to say something.

"What?" Mitchie asked and I realized that she'd lifted her head to find me watching her. Her nose was wrinkled and she was looking at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Though I guess I had been staring at her. Oops.

"Nothing." I shook my head, standing up straighter and moving my gaze from her face. Or, to be more specific, her lips. "What do you need me to do? Because as much as I like just standing here, doing nothing, I don't think you'll let me get away with that."

She didn't look as though she bought it, pausing for a few seconds before offering a reply. "You can cut these tomatoes up. Cut them pretty small, okay?" Handing me a knife that she'd retrieved from one of the very few cupboards we had in this enclosed space, she moved aside so that I could begin cutting them while she worked on finding what else she needed. Which she managed to do, while putting the pasta into the water and turning on the cooker at the same time. It may have been that I was easily impressed, or biased in some way, but it was pretty cool.

I did as I was told, slowly. Okay, so I may have been twenty, but I didn't use a knife that was as sharp as this on a regular basis. And I wanted to have all my fingers. They were useful when it came to playing guitar. And I was enjoying guitar again, after a while of not picking it up. I was writing again. "So..." I said, wanting to have something else to focus on. Sure, a lot of my attention was on not chopping my fingers off, but I wanted to do something besides that. And we'd started a game that we had yet to finish. "Your question."

Mitchie smiled – I risked a glance in her direction, just to see her reaction – and there was hesitation as she started boiling the water, while she thought of a question. It was thinking of the questions that was the hard part. Thinking of what to ask that wouldn't be too personal, but that could tell you something new about each other. Or... that's how it was for me. I didn't know for sure about Mitchie.

"Are you and your family close?"

The question threw me for a loop. I'd been expecting something... well. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. Not that I wasn't going to answer it. It was in the rules. If I didn't answer and Mitchie did (which she'd be able to, because they were) she'd have won. And as much as it would please me if she won (yeah, yeah, I know. Who are you and what have you done with Shane Grey? Shock horror, blah, blah) if I did that, then I wouldn't have an excuse to ask her questions anymore. Because the game would be over.

I shrugged, my gaze back on the tomatoes that I was chopping finely on the cutting board in front of me. All digits still intact so far. "Kinda. I guess. We... used to be. When I was younger we used to be great. My mom and dad and my younger sister. It was... like any other family. But then I..." I sighed, not moving my line of sight from the red tomatoes in front of me. "I got like this. Or like I was, if I've changed at all. And I didn't go and see them when we weren't on tour, and I decided that I wanted to hang out at celebrity parties instead of family get-togethers. They... they want to know me. But they don't. Not anymore. So close? Probably not. But I look at you and your parents and realize what I've been missing." The red skins blurred in front of me, like things always do when you stare at them for too long without moving your focus. I didn't know how Mitchie was reacting to my honesty either.

I'd been missing a lot. When was the last time I'd spoken to Hayley? She was the same age as Mitchie, yet I felt that I knew more about this girl that I'd met only five days ago than I knew about my own sister. Was that right? How could I justify that? I'd gotten busy? I'd forgotten to call her? I knew they were awful excuses. They weren't even excuses. I had no excuse.

"Shane!" Mitchie cried, pulling my arm and snatching the knife out of my other hand. "You almost hacked off a finger!"

I had? Huh. Well... I'm glad I didn't quite manage it? I stood there sheepishly, the knife having been taken from my grasp and not quite knowing what to do now. "Oops?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing me away from the tomatoes that I'd obviously cut enough – they were in tiny shreds now – and beginning work on chopping up some green peppers. Where had she found this stuff? Was that all in that basket that that weirdo girl gave us? Why did that weirdo girl think that we wanted _vegetables?_

I leaned against the counter, partly relieved that I hadn't been given anything new to do, but partly lost because of it. I wanted to help. I actually wanted to help. "Can I do anything?"

She looked up, slightly surprised. But I didn't get time to take in this surprised look, because the next thing I knew she was letting out a shriek and I caught a glimpse of blood beginning to seep out of her finger.

"Mitchie!" The irony would have tickled me if I hadn't been worried about her. Taking her finger, I looked at it – not that I was a medical expert or anything, how was I supposed to know how bad it was? – and made a face at the rate at which blood was coming out of it. There was only one thing for it, as weird as it might look to anybody just passing by. Not caring, I lifted her finger up and put it in my mouth, hoping that it would stop the bleeding. Oh, and not looking at her in the process, just in case she happened to look utterly repulsed by this action. That, I would not have been able to handle.

I didn't like the taste of blood in my mouth, but kept it in for a few more seconds, before looking at it again. It was clearer (though the blood was already forming around the edges again) and I could see that it wasn't too deep. But I still wasn't letting her near a knife again. Not tonight anyway. Taking a chance and flicking my eyes up to meet hers, I couldn't read the look on her face. I suck at reading faces. But she didn't look like I'd done something stupid, so that had to be a good thing. Right?

Clearing my throat, I didn't take my eyes off of her as I called through to Nate. "Nate! You know that first aid box that we have behind the TV? Can you bring it through here?"

"What? Why?" Came the reply, but I didn't answer. He'd bring it through within seconds anyway. He was Nate.

Sure enough, about a minute later he walked into the kitchen and put the box down on the counter, observing me and Mitchie for a few seconds. I could feel his gaze on me, but I still didn't break eye contact with her. This was the most tense situation ever. But I didn't want it to end. As awkward as it might make things, I didn't want it to end. Is that weird?

"Holy crap! Mitchie, what did you do?" Nate saw the cut, as much as I was trying to stop the bleeding by cutting off the circulation (wasn't that what you were supposed to do?) and immediately pulled a plaster out of the kit, ripping off the backing.

I rolled my eyes. "A bear bit her finger, Nate. It climbed through the venting system and bit her finger and then ran away. Who'd have thought it?"

"Shut up, Shane," Nate snapped back, holding out the plaster to me.

I had to look at her finger to make sure that I was wrapping up the right part, and did so as carefully as I could. I didn't want to hurt her. Not anymore than she'd already hurt herself anyway. "You really ought to be more careful with knives, Mitchie. They aren't toys, you know."

Mitchie blushed slightly, which was cute, before sticking her tongue out at me. "I wouldn't have cut myself if you hadn't offered to help. You were offering to help! It was a revelatory moment."

"Maybe I should never offer to help again?" I suggested, ignoring Nate, who was saying something along the lines of 'you offered to help?'. Yeah. Yeah, I did. Big whoop-de-doo-dah.

She laughed slightly, nodding. "Maybe you shouldn't. Thank you. At least I didn't get blood all over the peppers?"

"That's a definite bonus," I said, looking them over. They were pretty much pristine. Blood-free. "But I might need to offer to help again, because you're not using a knife from now on."

Another laugh, and Mitchie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I don't think that's going to be stuck to, but whatever you say. Can you finish cutting them? And I'll talk you through everything?"

Nate let out a snort, before leaving the kitchen. The faith he had in my cooking skills was heartening, but Mitchie seemed to think I'd be okay if she was talking me through it. She tipped the pasta into the water and then turned to me as I finished the job she'd started. Neither of us mentioned the tension that had been present minutes before. Which was probably a good thing. Though if it happened much more, I wasn't sure how long we could go without mentioning it.

I finished, seeing as she hadn't left me much more to do, and then stepped aside, waiting for further instructions.

"Okay. Um... can you grate some cheese? I got it out and it's over there. And then I'll put these together and make the sauce and then we'll almost be done and we can eat." Mitchie obviously knew what she was doing, and so I just obeyed. Sure, not something that Shane Grey was known for doing, but I think it's been established that I'm not really fitting into my mould anymore. I watched as she took a pan of tomato sauce that she'd found from somewhere (seriously, where were all these ingredients coming from? Had they always been here?) and then slid the vegetables into it. Then she put it on the cooker and began to stir.

We both went to doing what we needed to do for a few minutes, before I decided to break the silence. I cleared my throat again, and jumped right in. "Where did that come from out there? This is one of my questions, by the way, so you're inclined to answer."

I wasn't sure that she was going to answer, seeing as she was quiet for a few minutes after the words left my lips. But just as I was about to speak again, she started talking. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face, but sometimes hearing someone's voice can be enough.

"I don't know. Honestly. I just... I was panicked and then I looked at you and I realized that I had to expect this if I was hanging out with you. People would want to know who I was, and they'd make assumptions like the kids at school did. And I let those kids say what they wanted about me for too long. I didn't want that again. Not on a wider scale. So I just... I don't know. I wasn't thinking. Not really."

I watched the pile of cheese that I was grating grow as she spoke. She'd amazed me, though I'm sure I've already said that. She had. "You were awesome. Really. They couldn't believe it. So many people had so many more questions about you when you got back on the bus. Is this enough?"

Turning to look at me and the pile I'd made, she nodded. "Leave it there and then we'll put it on top. The pasta is done. And the sauce is really close to being finished..." She took some plates from the cupboard and began to dish up four different plates of pasta. There was obviously nothing else for me to do, so I stood beside her, watching.

She took a breath, presumably trying to work up the courage to say something. "Um... so. What did you say once I got on the bus? I mean... I saw you talking to them."

"I..." What could I say? How could I say it? It was nothing major – not really. I mean, the rumors would fly like crazy, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Nothing that wasn't true. I'd just... I'd stuck up for her. And I'd told them how much she'd changed me, without even meaning to. "I just..."

A voice interrupted us, followed by Jason bounding into the small room. "That smells amazing! I can't believe you made something that smelt amazing! Is it nice? I've been living on cereal for weeks. Thank you Mitchie!"

"Shane did his part," she smiled at Jason, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She'd wanted to know the answer. And she would know the answer. Because I wasn't losing. Not when there were so many questions left I could ask.

"Thank you too Shane!" Jason cried, watching as Mitchie sprinkled some cheese on the four plates of hot food and then taking the one that she handed to him. He left to go through to the living area, also holding Nate's plate of food.

"I made enough for your manager too, if he wants some..." she said, softly.

I nodded, not sure of what to say. Awkward was back. And this time it wasn't the type I wanted to stay. Funny how that changes. Before, I wanted to stay like that. Now I didn't. So I picked up a plate and gestured to the other room. "Want to go and annoy them? We can get Nate to clear up later..."

Mitchie smiled at me, nodding back. "Sure. But why Nate?"

"Eh," I said, letting her go past first with her meal. "We made dinner. Nate should do his part. And I don't trust Jason with... well, anything."


	17. See What You're Made Of

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Here you guys go! I'm getting around to planning this story out and as this is chapter 17, I'm figuring out that I think there'll be around 25 chapters. Between 20 and 30, for sure. And then I may do a sequel, depending on how it ends and whether people want it. But that's about all I had to say, so I hope you like these two, as I have written them both out in both Shane and Mitchie's POVs._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Yeah! ... okay no. I don't own Camp Rock._

_**Music:**__ Sceptics and True Believers – The Academy Is_

"_**Don't be so scared to take a second for reflection, to take a leave of absence, see what you're made of"**_

"Welcome to casa Grey!" Nate cried the next morning as we pulled up in front of a house that wasn't a thousand miles away from my house back in Massachusetts. It was in a suburb, surrounded by other houses that looked very similar to my own and I could just imagine sitting on the roof, doing nothing.

Shane obviously noticed these similarities, and met my eyes for a few seconds, looking away when I offered him a smile. "Let's get this over with." With not so much as a backward glance in my direction, he pushed past Nate and off the bus, into the sunlight.

My face visibly fell – I could feel it drop – and I looked away from him to find Jason looking in my direction sympathetically. I mean... okay, so he wasn't looking forward to seeing his family, but that didn't mean he could turn back into an insensitive jerk. But I could understand. And he'd changed so much in the past few days. He had the right to relapse sometimes, right? Most people wouldn't have even thought he could stop being a jerk some of the time. Me, included. Didn't mean that his brush off didn't hurt. Because it did.

"Don't worry about it Mitchie. He's just... worried."

I nodded up at Jason, giving him a smile and feeling slightly relieved when he offered one back. At least someone was still smiling. "I know. I know, it's not easy for him, is it? He's not as close with his family as he'd like to be..."

"Yeah. But... you're here. Maybe it'll be different." Jason said, extending a hand to me and pulling me up from my seating position on the couch.

Nate nodded in agreement. "I think you've managed to get through to him more than anybody else has ever. If anyone can build the bridge between him and his family, it's you."

No pressure or anything, I mentally added. They both looked so hopeful; as though Shane rebuilding his relationship with his family would be the final step in getting their old band mate back. I didn't think so, personally. Shane was annoyed. He was pissed off. At the record company and the management. And while everything being great with his mom and dad might help that, in order to get the old Shane back – the one that everybody seemed to love and the one that I had seen mere glimpses of – something would have to be done about the record company.

But instead of starting up an argument about what their management was getting them to do and what should be done about that, I just nodded. "I want to try."

I barely knew these two, yet I felt some sort of connection to them. I don't know why, but it was partially thanks to them that I was here in the first place. They were letting me be on tour because it pleased Shane, and while it may not be putting them in an awkward position, it probably wasn't how they'd have had things go.

Nate was the quiet, determined one. He was the glue that held the band together; what with Shane's tantrums and Jason's odd behaviour sometimes, someone needed to hold down the fort. Be the sanity in the group.

Jason was the kooky, nice one. He was the one that was always optimistic and would never make anybody feel bad intentionally. Sure, he wasn't the brightest spark, but he was the one with the nicest intentions. And he was an awesome guitar player.

The look that passed between the two of them when these words left my mouth was fleeting and hard to capture, but I just got the feeling that they knew. Oh God, they knew. They knew I liked him and they were going to tell me that it was useless and I shouldn't get my hopes up. What could I say? Deny it? Should I deny it, or would that be a waste of breath?

Nate was about to say something – his mouth was open and ready for the words to come stumbling out – but Shane's voice from outside interrupted him.

"Are you guys leaving the bus anytime soon, or will I have to go through this alone?"

His mouth snapped shut and I knew that the moment was gone, breathing a sigh of relief as this dawned on me. Thank goodness. At least now I had time to come up with my excuse and make it sound believable. Nate gestured for me to go first and I obeyed, taking the few steps out of the bus and into the fall sunshine.

It was really pretty here. The trees were various shades of amber and gold and the houses, while similar to the ones I knew back home, still had their own degrees of charm. Plus, knowing that Shane had come from a place like this just made me able to relate to him that little bit more. I liked being able to relate to him a little bit more.

A look up at his face, and all hurt that I still felt because of the brush off was gone. He looked almost nervous. At seeing his own family. That feeling was completely alien to me, because I couldn't imagine ever being nervous at just seeing my mom and dad. Nervous at their reaction at something, maybe. But not at just seeing them. Yet, when I looked and saw the almost scared look in his eyes, I wanted to be able to help somehow.

Reaching out, I put my hand on his arm in a gesture that I hoped was comforting, though I could have been so wrong. He didn't pull his arm away, just turned his face slowly so that his eyes met mine after a few seconds.

"It'll be okay. Just... be you. I'm sure they'll appreciate that." What did I know? I'd never met these people. But I figured that they were like him. Lost. He was lost in his public personality and we just needed to get that out of him. Find himself again.

Shane took a deep breath, nodding at me. Wow. Not even some smart ass remark. He really was worried about this. Just to reassure him that it would be okay, I squeezed his arm slightly and then tugged him in the direction of the front door. If I didn't, we might never get there. There wasn't much resistance, and within minutes I found myself standing at the front door, Shane only a little back from me. Presumably he'd recognise where he was, but he was just standing there looking at the door. And I wasn't going to knock. How weird would that be? Some random person they didn't know, knocking at their door because their son was too chicken to. So I just looked at him, my eyebrow raised.

Nate and Jason had hung back a little, sensing that Shane could potentially snap at them and that this was probably something they wanted to stay out of. They were lagging behind, walking up the path as slowly as was possible.

"You know, if you want anybody to answer, you actually have to knock at the door," I said, folding my arms. I didn't want to sound like I was being sarcastic, honestly. I understood. But I just wanted him to get the hard part over with and then he could see that it wasn't that bad. Because I refused to believe that it could be that bad. "I know you're scared, even if you won't admit it to Nate or Jason and don't worry, I won't say anything. I'm not gonna ruin your bad boy reputation that easily. But I just want to help and helping means that I'm going to wait here until you knock on the door. If you don't knock on the door, then you'll be scared about this meeting for a lot longer than you will be if you knock. And I'm not gonna do it for you, so come on. I might not be much help, but I'm here and I want this to go well for you."

Shane didn't reply, just avoided my eyes and with a quick glance over his shoulder to see where Nate and Jason were (halfway down the path was the answer) he reached out and knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Third time for luck.

Running footsteps were heard on the other side of the door. "Mom! Shane's here! Where did you leave the key? Oh my God, how have we not got the key ready? Where is it?"

I smiled at the voice, assuming that this was Shane's little sister. She sounded nice. Not like someone who wanted to bite the head off her brother for being a jackass. Shooting a glance over at Shane, I saw that he was tempted to smile too which was a good thing, right?

The scraping of a key in the lock came and the door was flung open to reveal a brunette girl who was about my height, wearing a yellow and black dress and in her bare feet. Her eyes were instantly drawn to Shane and she squealed, throwing her arms around him. "Shane! You're here! Seriously, you need to learn how to pick up the phone. If you weren't my brother, I'd hate you for not calling. But as it happens, I can tell what's been going on with you just by turning on HotTunes. Who is this Mitchie - "

"Hayle..." Shane's voice interrupted, though I couldn't see him from his sister, who was still hugging him. "Hayle... this is Mitchie."

Hayley broke away from her brother and noticed me, her face splitting into yet another grin. "Wow. Hey. What's up? I'm Hayley, Shane's sister. But you probably already guessed that..."

I nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed by this situation. Sure, I'd been confident when it hadn't really sunk in that I was going to meet Shane's family and was more focussed on making sure he felt okay. But now that it was happening... why was I here? "Yeah. I'm Mitchie. I've heard all about you..."

"You mean my big brother actually knows I exist? Wow. Shocker." Hayley's sarcastic tone was evident, but she turned to a guilty looking Shane and grinned before placing her attention back on me. "I've heard about you too. I mean, not directly, but you're all over the - "

Shane butted in, obviously not wanting to get into that (but why? I still didn't know what he'd said to the press) and cut her off. "Where's mom?"

"In the kitchen. Mom is making breakfast. Or brunch, as she likes to call it. Because it's between breakfast and lunch... duh. Dad is... well, he'll be back soon. Nate! Jason!" Hayley didn't even seem to care that she'd been cut off, and her attention was drawn by the other two Connect 3 members that had _finally _reached us. She ran off to them, throwing her arms around both of them as she spoke at a hundred miles an hour in their ears, leaving me and Shane by the open front door.

"She's nice." I shrugged, watching him step into the house and following him. It sort of felt like I was intruding. I didn't know these people, nor did I have any reason to know these people. I mean, as much as I might _want _to, I wasn't dating Shane. I was just some girl that he met on tour and asked to tag along.

He nodded. "Yeah. She is. I'm just... sorry I don't speak to her more."

"You can fix that. If you want to, you can fix that." I sighed as he led the way down the hallway, which was lined with pictures. Stopping to look at them – if anything, just to delay meeting his mom and dad for a few minutes and to let him get his hello in first – I smiled as I saw a very young looking Shane Grey. "Aww." I couldn't help myself. He was so cute.

"No!" A cry from ahead of me made me laugh, and I laughed even more when a hand grabbed my wrist and Shane began to pull me away from the photos. "No. No looking at any more of them. So don't even ask..."

I was still laughing when he pulled me through to the kitchen, where a woman who bore some resemblance to Shane was standing over a cooker. Her head lifted immediately when she heard the noise and her face broke into the same grin that I saw whenever Shane smiled.

"Shane!" She ran over to him and scooped him up into a hug. This was obviously a ritual of hers, although there was a fleeting look of surprise when he kissed her on the cheek. It was the look of surprise that made me smile. Proof that he was changing? Pulling away from her son, she held his shoulders at arms length. He was taller than her, but this didn't seem to matter. "What was that for?"

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Missed you, is all."

There was an awkward moment as his mom tried to think of a coherent way to reply, that wouldn't acknowledge her surprise but also wouldn't look like she was changing the subject. Maybe thankfully, Shane remembered that he'd dragged me into the room and so turned to me, pulling me forward. "Mom, this is Mitchie. You might've - "

"Yes!" She cried, running forward and pulling me into a hug which took me by surprise. "I have heard so much about you! Mainly from the TV and from Jeff and from Nate, who updates his blog and Hayley reads it all the time. But of course, I heard Shane talking about you last - "

"Can we help with anything, Mom?"

There it was again. Shane jumping in in order to stop me from finding out what he'd said. I'd obviously have to look that up. What had he said? Making a mental note to look it up as soon as I got back on the bus, I let it go for now. I'd have found out sooner or later.

The look of surprise on Mrs. Grey's face as she pulled away from me was probably similar to the one that I'd worn last night, just before I cut my finger. I was totally glad she didn't have a knife in her hand, because it could have ended like my cooking ended the night before. With a sore finger and a band aid to prove it.

"What?" Shane noticed this look of surprise, looking from his mom to me. I just looked back at him, an amused look on my face. "That's almost exactly what Mitchie did when I offered to help her make dinner. Am I really that bad?"

"You offered to help her make dinner?" Well... that answered his question for him, really, didn't it? She looked at me, as though seeking confirmation, and I nodded back at her. No point in lying. He had helped.

"I did. And I was good at it. I wasn't the one that ended up with the sliced open finger, was I, Mitch?"

I rolled my eyes. I hated it when he was right. He always spoke with such a cocky tone of voice. "Yeah, yeah. I would never have cut my finger if you hadn't decided to be so uncharacteristically helpful, Pop Star."

"I think you were just distracted by my amazing good looks and my amazing cooking skills, Princess of Paparazzi Put-Downs," Shane replied, evidently becoming more at ease with the whole situation. As in, the being with his parents whom he barely knew and who barely knew him and wanting to fix that broken relationship. Though he seemed to be using more energy taunting me at this present moment in time.

Hoping that I hadn't blushed at all, I rolled my eyes once again. "Of course, Pop Star. Keep telling yourself that one if it makes you feel better."

A laugh from Mrs. Grey alerted me back to the fact that we weren't just on the bus anymore, and that we had witnesses other than Nate and Jason to our petty insults. "You kids. Well, actually I'm just about done. So if you wanted to go through and sit down..."

Shane didn't need telling twice. But instead of following him, I hung back to see if there was anything I could carry through. Just like everyone else in the world, his mom only had two hands and so she'd never be able to carry enough for everyone. Watching as she pulled some toast from the toaster and stacked them on a plate, I stepped forward and retrieved the plate from her fingers. "I'll take it through."

She smiled at me, keeping a hold on the plate for a few seconds. "Mitchie... am I the only one who can see a difference in him?"

I shook my head after a moment of hesitation. "No. He's changed. You'll see more evidence of it, but he has."

"You wouldn't happen to know what kick-started that, would you?"

Oh. She'd definitely been talking to Nate. Either that, or Caitlin and I highly doubted that she knew of my best friend's existence.

Shrugging, I tried to stop my face from flushing, but could tell that my efforts were mostly unsuccessful. "Maybe he just... wanted to. I mean... um... I'll take this through..." I prised it out of her hands and dodged out of the kitchen as fast as I could. I didn't know this woman at all, but she'd already made up her mind about me. She liked me, because I changed her son from this arrogant jerk into the Shane that she'd raised. But I didn't know how I'd done that. She liked me because I'd apparently done something that I didn't even know how I'd done. I couldn't take credit for that, could I? I hadn't meant to do it!

I found the dining room easily – Shane, Nate, Hayley and Jason were sitting around a table, engaged in conversation – and slid into the empty seat opposite Shane. The chairs next to him, on both sides, were occupied by Hayley and Nate, so opposite would have to do. There seemed to be no sign of his father though, which seemed weird. If your son was going to come home from a tour and see you, wouldn't you want to be there? I didn't have time to ask about him though, because right then, Mrs. Grey entered, her hands full of plates of food. Wow. Maybe I should've offered to help a little more. One plate was hardly anything.

"Hayle, can you help me set these out?" She asked, attempting to keep them all balanced. Hayley jumped into action, and I managed to take a few from her hands, setting them out in front of the very hungry looking, very unhelpful, band. They all had their arrogant moments – it wasn't just Shane.

When all the plates were transferred from Shane's mom's hands and onto the table, she took a seat next to me and smiled at everyone. "It's great to see a full table..."

Why was nobody mentioning his dad? Hayley had said something about him briefly, but that was all I'd heard. I wasn't confident enough to ask though. I mean, okay, I was sure that Shane would have told me if anything bad had happened to his dad, but still. If there was a risk of offending or making anybody upset, I didn't want to take it.

"Well, dig in! Your dad..." Trailing off, Mrs. Grey shrugged. "He'll be back soon and he'll get what's left."

Taking not nearly as much food as the three boys (or men, as I guess they were... seeing as Shane was almost 20 and Jason was 22...) I tried to feel as though I belonged there. I mean, I had been invited. It was okay. But I kinda felt like I was intruding on a family reunion that I had absolutely nothing to do with. It's like inviting a stranger to a funeral. Or... maybe not as extreme.

"So, how did you end up on tour with these guys, Mitchie? Because I'd love some tips. I've tried to convince Shane to let me go, but he just keeps telling me that school comes first and then hanging up the phone. And I've read some rumors, but I know better than to believe everything they say about my brother." Hayley spoke to me first, leaning over to get some bread. She looked kind of like Shane, I noticed. They had the same hazel eyes. Or almost the same. Not quite. Shane's were... wow. Okay, so let's not get into too much about what I know about Shane Grey's eyes.

I shrugged, trying to think of the best way to answer without getting into the whole long story. "It's a long story..."

"Basically... Shane saw her at the concert in Cohasset, ran into her again when he went out for a walk at midnight, she fell off the roof when she found out it was him and then she had to walk him home because he didn't know the way and then she had to stay with us because she couldn't walk home on her own because that would be dangerous and then he missed her a lot so he got them to say that she could come on tour and Mitchie said that she'd like that and then she came and she's only been here for a day, but she says she's having fun." Jason said, his mouth full, all in one sentence and hardly pausing for breath.

Nate barely batted an eyelid at this amazing feat (I mean come on, all of that without a breath?) and chipped in himself, his mouth not containing much less food. "But if you want the details, Jason isn't the one to go to."

"You fell off your roof?" Hayley asked, looking at me again.

I blushed, opening my mouth to reply – with what, I wasn't sure – but getting cut off by her brother, who was grinning at me from his seat opposite me.

"Yes. Yes, she did. And she freaked out about being locked out. Forget the fact that Shane Grey was in her front yard. Mitchie Torres was freaking out about being locked out."

Rolling my eyes, I sat forward slightly. "Excuse me for realizing that the sun doesn't rise and set around you, Pop Star."

"Didn't stop you from wanting to walk me back, did it, Roof Girl?" Shane cocked an eyebrow and again, it was like we were the only ones there. Whenever we got into this crazy banter I know that I forgot about everyone else in the room. Which might not have been such a good idea, considering where I was. And the fact that all eyes were on us.

As soon as this dawned on me, I sat back in my chair, my mind instructing my face to stay a natural shade. "Whatever, Grey."

"That is such a - " Hayley began, a smile spread over her face. She was cut off, however, by the front door closing with a slam and a bang in the hallway. Shane glanced at me, and I had a feeling that his dad was about to make an appearance. Was this a good thing, or not?

I didn't have to wait too long to find out. An older guy appeared in the doorway to the dining room, his hair the same color as Shane's (except with flecks of grey) and I was sure that if he looked slightly happier, I'd have seen more resemblances. But he was just looking blankly, as though trying to work out how to react to the situation. Wasn't it a good thing? That his son was home?

After some silence, he stepped forward, sliding into the seat at the head of the table, nodding curtly at his son. "Shane."

"Dad..." Shane replied, not looking at me anymore. Apparently his plate was fascinating.

Hayley sent a nervous glance around the table, before launching into a loud and exaggerated conversation with her mom and trying to include both Shane and her father in it. So I wasn't the only one who sensed awkwardness there then. But why was it so... strained?

I glanced at Jason, who was next to me, and he seemed to understand exactly what I wanted to know. Leaning slightly closer so that he could speak without being heard – which was very understanding of Jason; people obviously underestimated him sometimes – he filled me in a little bit more.

"Shane's dad disapproved of the whole band thing. He wanted Shane to help him run his business, but obviously... well... he didn't. So when Shane started getting... like he got, his dad was the first to accuse the fame. And Shane said some stuff he didn't mean back. And so..."

"And so things got awkward." That made sense. Complete sense. No wonder his family couldn't get through to him. When Shane's dad had tried, he'd accused the fame. It was easy to blame the thing that couldn't change. So Shane got it into his head that he couldn't change; that it was the fame that made him like he was and he couldn't get rid of that. I'd told him that it was him that was the jerk. I'd made him realize that it wasn't the fame. It was his reaction to the fame.

The next fifteen minutes of the meal went by in the same sort of fashion. Mrs. Grey and Hayley attempting to build bridges (I even saw Shane try a few times) and nothing happening. It was hard to see. The fact that I couldn't get involved – it was hardly my place to – was making me a spectator, and nobody wanted to be a spectator to this sort of family disarray. Why couldn't we just fix things when we wanted them fixed? As easy as 1, 2, 3.

It was only when we'd all finished eating and the silence spread over the table again that anybody even mentioned anything about it. Everyone had been pretending as though this was a usual family get together. But maybe now that there was no food left to throw at anyone if it went wrong, it felt like a safer time.

"So..." Mr. Grey uttered his first words, pushing his plate away and looking at Shane in a way that I couldn't really describe. There was hope there, there was. But there was also something else. Fear, maybe. Hurt. Annoyance. "What are you doing back here? Isn't there a big celebrity party you three have to be at?"

Shane glanced at me for the first time in fifteen minutes and I shot back what I hoped was perceived as a supportive look. I was here. Though I kind of wished that Nate wasn't sitting where he was so that I could hold his hand in reassurance or something. Just as reassurance though, obviously.

"No. Shane wanted to come and visit us, James. He wanted to say hi," Mrs. Grey said. I felt sorry for her. Caught in the middle between all of this. Her and Hayley both.

"Our Shane? Really? Wanted to come and see his family? Well that doesn't sound like him at all."

The bitterness in his voice had to show something. Maybe I was reading into it too much, trying to find some hope for Shane, but if he was that bitter it meant that he did care. And presumably, that he wanted Shane to have wanted to drop in a lot more than he did. Than he had.

"Dad..." Shane began, trailing off slightly as his father turned to glare at him. I silently willed him to carry on talking. Carry on. Show him you. Show him the you that I've seen you change into. Please. "Dad... I wanted to see you guys. I haven't seen you for... for ages. And that's my fault, I know, but I want... I just..."

It was a rarity to see Shane trip up over his words, which is probably why Nate and Jason decided to vacate. Mumbling something along the lines of washing up, they took as many plates as they could carry between them and left the dining room, the door closing behind them. As Jason left, he caught my eye, motioning to see if I was going to go with them. One glance at Shane though, and I replied with a slight shake of my head. He might not have needed me here, but I wanted to be here just in case.

"Yes. It is your fault. You, prancing off to go and sing your songs on stage, leaving behind your family and those who love you without a backwards glance. And then, then you come back and expect everyone to revolve around you. Your mother made you food, your sister has been updating us incessantly on what you're doing and... you. Who're you?" Mr. Grey's gaze landed on me, and I blushed again, sitting forward getting ready to answer. Who was I? Some girl that was on tour with Shane? Oh yeah, that would go down well.

"This is Mitchie, Dad. She's... she's Mitchie." Shane didn't seem to know how to introduce me either, his eyes lingering on me as though he were trying to work it out just by looking at me.

"Is this your latest flavor of the week then, Shane? She's not like the other ones you're And you've never brought any of them to meet us." His dad's attention had turned once more to Shane, but he was still talking about me. I looked down at the table, where my plate was still lying. I had a feeling that Nate and Jason weren't coming back for the rest. They'd just wanted to get out of there before... this went down.

Flavor of the week?

My stomach tied in knots at the thought of this; at the thought of being Shane's 'flavor of the week'. Had he ever been that bad? Or was that just an exaggeration on his father's part?

The next thing I heard was a chair being scraped back, and I looked up to see Shane standing up, towering above his father, his fist on the table. "Don't. Don't talk about Mitchie like that. You might hate me, but you don't know her. You cannot imply anything about her."

I felt Hayley and Shane's mom turn to look at me, but I couldn't take my eyes from off Shane, who was just glaring down at his dad. And his dad was glaring right on back.

"Shane." His name passed from my lips, and I watched as he visibly relaxed, turning toward me. "Don't worry about it. Mr. Grey... as much as you might not believe it... Shane... Shane's changed. I know it's hard to believe, but he has. And if you'll just hear him out, maybe – just maybe – you'll both realize what you've been missing..."

The intensity that Shane's dad was watching me with was almost unbearable and I wanted to look away. But I had to stand my ground. Because he had changed. I know he had. And other people needed to believe it too. Especially those close to him. They needed to believe it. They needed to believe in him. Believe in him like I did.


	18. Everything I Knew

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Anddd here's Shane's installment. Seeing as they were all orientated around the same day, I'm posting them both up at once. Which will be a good experiment, just to see how many people review when I post two chapters at once compared to one chapter... BUT. The next chapter will have skipped ahead a few days, and as I said, I'm thinking between 25 to 30 chapters. So the real drama stuff will be happening pretty soon._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Yeah! ... okay no. I don't own Camp Rock._

_**Music:**__ Everything I Knew - Busted_

"_**Everything I knew, just went out the window"**_

Okay. He could say whatever he wanted about me, I probably deserved it. But when he said that about Mitchie – even if he wasn't directly insulting her and was just using her to get at me for yet another thing – I couldn't take it. She was sitting there, probably in one of the most uncomfortable situations she'd ever been in, and she was still supporting me. She was still there. She hadn't run for the hills yet. Even if I hadn't been completely truthful with what my dad thought of me.

"Shane," Mitchie's voice cut into my anger and I relaxed, turning to look at her slowly. She was still there. "Don't worry about it."

I sat down, taking a deep breath as she turned to my dad. My mom and Hayley were both watching her with odd expressions on their faces, and I knew in that moment that they knew. They so knew why I'd snapped. Mentally kicking myself for making it so obvious, I tried to listen to what she was saying and not to what my mother and sister might quiz me about later.

"Mr. Grey... as much as you might not believe it... Shane... Shane's changed. I know it's hard to believe, but he has. And if you'll just hear him out, maybe – just maybe – you'll both realize what you've been missing..."

Maybe it was just me, but I could hear Mitchie's voice shaking slightly. She was nervous. Of talking to my father. Which... yeah, I could understand. He sounded like a total psycho. Especially if she had no idea why he was like he was. Mom and Hayley both knew why he was acting like this, even if they attempted to fix it in whatever way they could. But maybe it was just me that noticed that. I noticed the little things.

My dad just looked at her, and she just looked back. I could tell – don't ask me how, because I'm not sure myself – that she wanted to look away, but she didn't. And that was the point. She didn't look away because she truly believed in what she was saying. She truly believed in me. And that meant more than anything else in the entire world.

Clearing my throat, I brought all attention in the room back onto me, but not in the way that I used to. I used to thrive on the attention. If it wasn't on me, I had to get it onto me. Because that's what jerks did. But this time I wanted the attention on me to take it from Mitchie. To prove to her that her faith wasn't misplaced as far as I was concerned. To try and fix this rift that had formed between me and my family. To be the Shane Grey that I used to be and not the one that the majority of people in this room thought I still was.

"I don't... I don't expect everything to revolve around me. Not anymore. Not even before. I just... this dream that I've been living out isn't how I expected it to be. It's not fun anymore. The songs I put my all into are getting twisted out of all recognition and I built up this reputation for myself that made even the people that brought me up think of me as some egotistical maniac who had to get what he wanted or else... he'd throw a fit. It was stupid. I was stupid. I _am _stupid, because I've let myself... I've let this happen. And I don't blame you guys for being mad or awkward or confused with me and everything..."

I was making it up as I went along. No rehearsed speeches. This stuff was coming from my mouth without me thinking about it beforehand, and I wondered if they could tell. If my mom could tell that I was saying the first thing that came to my head. I mean, on one hand, it could be seen as from the heart. I didn't have to think about it because I meant it. But my dad... well, he'd find some way of twisting it around so that it sounded like making it up meant that I was fabricating it as I went along. If he was in that sort of mood, that is.

Carrying on though, I leaned forward slowly, looking around at all three members of my family around the table before stopping to watch Mitchie. She was watching me too; our eyes connecting over the table. If mom or dad or Hayley noticed this, I didn't realize it – nor did I really care.

"Someone told me, a few days ago, that I was being a jerk. And that I had so much but didn't appreciate it like I should. And that I needed to wise up and start treating people like actual human beings. And that I needed to stop yelling at people for not straightening my hair properly, though I'm not sure where they got that idea from. But, and though I had no idea why at the time and am only just beginning to figure out the reason, it bugged me. It sunk in and I realized that I didn't want to be that person and I hated the thought of said person thinking of me like that. And so I thought about it. All the things I said to you guys – especially you, Dad – and regretted. I really... I really regret it all. But there's no way of going back in time to stop myself from saying the stuff I said. All I can hope for is that I can fix it now. By proving that I'm not the person you think I am. And I have no clue how to do that, and I'm not expecting it to happen overnight – as nice as that would be. I'd just like... the chance. I'd like the chance."

Mitchie smiled as my speech carried on, and I was annoyed for a second that she'd had to sit down opposite me. Because right now was the time where I'd have loved to grab hold of her hand and never let go. Hold on for dear life. I'd said my part. And now I had to leave it up to the rest of my family.

The silence that had suddenly spread across the room was excruciating. Hayley was watching me, almost in awe. Mom was looking horribly close to tears. And dad... well, he was just staring. His eyes had glassed over, which meant he was deep in thought. I just hoped it was a good thought process and not one that ended up in me getting thrown out of the house. Not that he was that bad. He was just hurt by what happened, is all.

"Shane..." Hayley spoke first. "You're an idiot."

I tore my gaze away from Mitchie so that I could look at my sister, who was smirking at me. Say what now? "What?"

She hit me – not lightly, might I add – on my arm. "You're an idiot. Of course you have the chance, you donut. Just... call me more, okay? Acknowledge that I exist. Invite me to your concerts every so often. Let me meet Jesse McCartney."

I grinned at Hayley, moving in my seat so that I could give her a hug. When was the last time I'd hugged her? Before today, obviously. I couldn't remember. Which I guess was my point. I needed to do it a lot more. "Deal. Apart from the Jesse McCartney thing because he's way too old for you, I'm sorry."

"I'm seventeen!" She cried, but didn't sound mad. Quite the opposite. "I love you Shane. You've just got to... think a bit more."

Glancing over at Mitchie for a fraction of a second, I smiled. "I'm working on it."

Hayley stood up, picking up what was left of the plates and walking over to the door. "I'm gonna go see how Nate and Jason are getting on with the plates. Seeing as they oh-so-conveniently left some..."

Part of me wanted to signal for Mitchie to go too. It would be the less selfish option. Get her out of the room with the crazy dad and the about-to-cry mom. But then the selfish side of me wanted her there. So that I could look at her and know that no matter how things went down, she was there and we'd be getting back on the bus later tonight and I'd call her mom and dad and sort things out for her birthday tomorrow. Before I could make my mind up though, Hayley had left the room and the door had shut behind her. Looks like my sister had made it up for me.

Nobody else seemed to want to say anything, so I figured it was my turn again. Great. This would have been the most I'd said to them in years. "Look. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm really sorry. I said things I didn't mean. You guys are amazing, putting up with me. And I threw it back in your face when I said that you sucked and that you could shove your business... well. Let's not relive it. But I mean it when I say that I'm sor - "

"Shane. Shut up." My dad said, bluntly.

I was slightly taken aback. Well. That's nice. Throw it back in my face, why don't you Dad? I was all ready to open my mouth and retort with something... stupid, but he cut me off again.

"You really take everything for granted, don't you?" He was watching me, a strange expression on his face. "You don't understand what you did to this family. You think you do, but you don't. We used to watch every show that you appeared on. Gathered around the TV to try and see a glimmer of the person we used to know. But we didn't. We never did. How can we believe you've changed?"

How could they believe I'd changed? How? I didn't have an answer. How can you prove to someone that you've changed? It's not like a mathematic equation. There's no clear line between yes and no. It was just something you had to believe in.

"Mr. Grey..." Mitchie's voice came to my rescue yet again. "I just... my opinion might not count at all. But I met Shane in Cohasset. He was on tour and was basically an ass. You've seen that. You know how he was. And then... I don't know. I can't quite explain it. A few days ago, I was Mitchie Torres, this nobody at school. And suddenly everyone thought I'd... well, rumors about Shane and me were flying. This girl was really horrible to me and she was calling me all sorts of things and your son managed to get it out of me and then he... he came and tried to fix things. He told this girl to stop being a total bitch and then managed to convince my mom and dad to let me go on a tour with him which is... amazing. Yesterday, we were in a diner and this little girl began to freak out over the fact that Shane Grey was in the same diner as her. And okay, he got kind of annoyed to begin with, but then he signed an autograph, took a picture, made this little girl feel like she was the luckiest girl in the entire world. I just... it's not about proving that he's changed. He can't suddenly write it down on a bit of paper and count that as proof. It's... it's all about the little things. And okay, I've known Shane for a grand total of six days, but I know that he probably wouldn't have done that stuff a few days before. And that's proof enough for me..."

Oh God. I loved her. She didn't look over at me, but her face was slightly red as she finished speaking and her eyes flickered in my direction for all of two seconds. And I just... is this a good thing? I'd known her for six days and I _loved _her?

She shook her head, standing up slowly. "This... that was just my two cents. But you guys probably want to talk and I totally feel like I'm intruding on something that doesn't really concern me at all. So... I'm gonna go see if the others need any help. I'm sorry if that wasn't my place, but... yeah. I believe it. I really do."

With one last look in my direction, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. I watched the last place I'd seen her for a few seconds, just taking it all in. She was more amazing than I could have ever expected, and that's why it was pointless loving her. How could she ever look at me like that? I mean, sure, I'm Shane Grey. But she met me when I was this arrogant, obnoxious, smartass jerk who needed a reality check and needed it fast. She deserved so much better. On every single level. And it wasn't often you heard Shane Grey admitting that to himself.

"I like her," Mom said, breaking the silence again. "I like her, don't you James?"

For some reason, I wanted him to. Well, of course I did. I liked her, so I wanted him to. Even if we were on tense terms, I didn't want that to affect his judgement of Mitchie. She hadn't done anything.

My father looked at my mom, confusion evident in his face. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Can't you see it? You want proof that he's changed, James? Look at the way he looks at her. Look at the way he acts when someone even implies something about her. Look at those things and then tell me that he hasn't changed."

Gee, Mom. Way to talk about me as though I'm not even in the room. Though she's sticking up for me, so I guess I shouldn't be too sarcastic about her in my head.

Nobody said anything for a few moments – my dad looking from me to my mom, my mom keeping her gaze trained firmly on me and me... trying to look anywhere but. So it was that obvious, huh? I guess it probably was. I'd never been good at hiding my feelings, just like my temper tantrums had proved.

"Well." My dad sighed eventually, after some major emotional turmoil in his mind, I guessed. He sounded kinda tired. "Things won't just... change. You understand that, right?"

I nodded, mutely. I did. I knew it couldn't. Just like everything else in life, you had to earn back trust.

"I'm sorry, Shane," he said and I could tell that he meant it, as much as the pained expression on his face contradicted this. Sure, I hadn't spoken to him for a while, but I still knew my dad. I knew what he meant when he said things in a certain way.

I nodded again. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry too."

---

"Call!" Hayley cried as she hugged me that evening. We'd not stayed too late – things were still slightly awkward – but we'd managed to tell the story of how Mitchie ended up on tour with us in more detail, I'd heard all about people I used to know and how their lives were getting on... I even got the lowdown on Hayley's lab partner whom she might have a little crush on. But when I started asking questions about him, she shut up because apparently I was being a 'typical big brother' and she 'liked him alive'. Whatever.

And now it was time to leave. I was almost sorry. But Mom had given us enough food to last us another month – let alone two weeks on tour – because when Mitchie told her about cooking and having not much to work with, she'd gotten all neurotic and just about cleaned the house out. And I'd made a promise to keep in contact with them a lot better, through emails and phone calls and texts and carrier pigeons. Okay... so maybe not the carrier pigeons. But everything else. They still felt the need to remind me though. Just in case I'd forgotten about the last ten times they'd asked me.

I nodded, smiling widely at her as I pulled away. "I promise, I will."

Mitchie laughed from where she was putting on her shoes. "I promise, I'll make him."

"Yeah, see. Mitchie will make me," I said, rolling my eyes as I turned back to my sister. She'd gotten along well with Mitchie, which was both scary and reassuring at the same time.

"I have faith in Mitchie," she commented, hugging me once more. "Love you, big brother. And I'm glad that you've come to your senses. Though... maybe it's not you I should be thanking for that one." Her eyebrow was raised as she glanced over at Mitchie and then back to me, a smirk sliding across her face.

I rolled my eyes, glad that my hair was long enough to cover most of my face and hide the inevitable embarrassed look that had crossed it for a fleeting few seconds. "I'll talk to you later, little sister."

Mom was pulling me toward her before Hayley had any chance to reply, practically crushing me with her embrace. She'd already hugged Nate and Jason, but had left the biggest one for me, apparently. I think I was going to be bruised. "I love you Shane."

"Love you too, mom," I managed to reply with the little breath that I had thanks to the death grip she had me in.

Releasing me, she held me at arms length and looked me in the eyes. "Do me a favor and tell her, Shane. I like her."

Great. I hadn't blushed in front of my family ever and now both Hayley and mom had managed to make me in the space of two seconds. "Bye, Mom."

I wasn't going to confirm or deny telling her, because I didn't know what I'd do. I never knew what I was going to do around Mitchie. So it might happen. Or it might not.

My dad was next, which I'd been dreading slightly. Formalities? Actual acknowledgement that we were related by blood? I had no idea what to expect. So, as I approached him, I was scanning his face looking for some sign. He turned away from Nate and Jason as I got closer, and they began to walk up the path to the bus, shouting a final goodbye as they did so. They'd seen their parents when we'd been in the states that they grew up in. I was the last one to see mine.

"Shane..." he nodded, hands in his pockets.

"Dad..."

Well, what else did I expect? We weren't back to normal. He'd said so himself. Things wouldn't just change because I wanted them to. That wasn't how the world worked. "Have a safe trip. And have fun."

I nodded. "I will. And I'll be better... at everything. At being a son. I'm gonna call a lot more. And I want to say... I'm sorry, I just - "

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "If we keep apologising for the past, we'll never get any further forward."

That made sense. More sense than anything. We couldn't keep worrying about who we used to be. Just who we were now. "See you later, Dad."

There was a hesitation as both of us tried to work out what we wanted to do. Shake hands? Hug? I guess I took the first move, stepping forward and enveloping my dad in an awkward kind of hug. It was weird. But it was a start.

"See you later, son."

Standing back, leaning against the door frame, I watched as Mitchie said goodbye to Hayley, hugging her. This had not been something I'd been bargaining on.

I had not bargained on ending this tour as a completely different person.

I had not bargained on meeting a girl that changed my life, even though to others she'd seem like one of the most ordinary people in the world. With a killer voice.

I had definitely not bargained on being back here, feeling as though I'd made a change in the family situation that not many people knew about, but that I'd always wanted to change.

I had not expected to be _okay _with all of these changes.

But we all have to change at some point. For most people, it's less of a drastic change. They just grow up. But I'd "grown up" a few years ago, only to find out that I'd become less mature than I'd thought I had. I hadn't really grown up at all. No. All of my real growing up had occurred within the past few days.

Focussing on what was going on in front of me, and lifting myself out of my thoughts for a little while, I looked back over at my sister and the girl I'd recently discovered that I _loved_. A piece of paper was changing hands. Wait, what? What was going on?

"Call me," Hayley was saying, a smile on her face. "It'll be awesome to get an update from someone who isn't my brother. You can tell me when he's being a total jackass."

Mitchie laughed. "Expect to get a call every hour then."

No. They could not exchange numbers. No. I shook my head. "No way. I am not that bad. And no, Hayley, she can't call you. No. I forbid it. My foot is down."

Another laugh – this time from everyone left in the hallway, my father included.

"It was really nice to meet you," Mitchie nodded, slipping past everyone and stopping when she reached me, waving the slip of paper in my face. Just as I reached out to clasp my hands around it, she whipped it out of my grasp and put it in her pocket, sticking her tongue out at me. "Nice try, Pop Star."

I pouted at her, folding my arms as I did so. So not fair.

She laughed at the expression on my face, turning back into the hallway. "Thank you for brunch and... dinner. It's been awesome."

"Lovely to meet you, Mitchie." Mom nodded, a secret smile in place. Though it wasn't really all that secret. I knew what she was smiling at. And it needed to stop.

Sliding past me, Mitchie took a step onto the driveway and took a few steps down it, turning back when she was four paces along. I'd counted. "You coming, Pop Star?"

I nodded, not saying a word as I watched her carry on up the path. Then I turned back around, greeted with three very annoying looks from my family. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the door handle and began to close the door behind me. "Shut up. All of you."

The last thing I heard was Hayley's laugh, before I ran up the path and got on the bus, feeling considerably better about life in general than I had when I'd gotten off it that morning.

Mission accomplished?

Almost.


	19. Things I'll Never Say

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ And okay so... where I said that the next chapter would have skipped a few days, I lied. I'd completely forgotten that the next day was planned as Mitchie's birthday and so had to include that one! It's not great, but it covers her birthday and it covers some Smitchie angst and builds it up slightly for what's going to happen – which only I know as of yet. Mwahaha. I'M SORRY for having someone interrupt the moment AGAIN but I promise that you guys will like me soon enough. And official announcement: I have planned and written out a plan of the next few chapters and there will be 27. No more, no less. Which I hope is okay with you guys (though it'll have to be, seeing as it's all that I have). The NEXT chapter will have skipped ahead a few days. And 280 reviews from you guys is insane – I love that you love this so much. You deserve this fast update. Drama begins in the next few chapters._

_**Disclaimer: **__Camp Rock isn't mine, sorry to say._

_**Music: **__Things I'll Never Say – Avril Lavigne_

"_**Guess I'm wishing my life away, with these things I'll never say"**_

"Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Huh. Deja vu. I distinctly remember getting woken up by Caitlin in this bed. And neither times had I been expecting it. But this was obviously a dream. Because Caitlin wasn't here and couldn't be here because I was in New Jersey. How could Caitlin have gotten here?

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I tried to fall back into the dream that I'd been having seconds before. Shane and me sitting on my roof playing 20 questions. I couldn't remember how many questions I had left, but that didn't matter. It was the fact that it was me and Shane. Sigh. I could picture it in my head, but couldn't fall back into that dreamland.

"Mitchie! Do not make me pour water over you. That would be a sucky way to start your birthday."

Another voice joined Caitlin's, this one slightly quieter. "You're not going to resort to cold water. I won't let you do that, seeing as that would be a really mean thing to do."

"Hush up, rock star. I'd like to see you stop me if I decided to throw water over her."

Was I really dreaming? Because these voices were really vivid, which usually didn't happen in a dream. But if I wasn't dreaming... if I really could hear these voices and they really were this close... then that meant...

"Caitlin?" I asked, opening one eye and finding my best friend staring right back at me, a childish grin on her face. Sitting up – but taking care not to whack my head on the empty bed above me – I gasped, not taking my eyes off her. "Cait! What... what are you doing here? How are you here? Oh my gosh!"

Shane laughed from where he was standing in the doorway, watching me as I hugged my best friend. Okay, so I'd been away from her for what, two days? But it had felt like a lifetime. "I'll leave you girls to it... happy birthday."

I smiled at him and he smiled back before leaving the doorway, walking back through to the living area. Then I turned to Caitlin and squealed. This was so awesome!

"It's your birthday, Mitchie! I couldn't miss it. And Shane got in touch and offered to fly me out to New Jersey and I couldn't exactly refuse an offer like that, could I? He has a private jet, Mitchie. I felt so... awkward, turning up to the airport and getting sat in this huge plane with leather seats and this woman who kept offering me drinks and everything. It was amazing. But I'm just so happy to see you!" She grinned at me, and I was sure that the grin would never wipe itself from her face, it was that happy. But I was pretty ecstatic too. "So how does it feel being eighteen?"

I shrugged. I'd barely even gotten used to it. In fact, it hadn't even registered until she said the words. I was too preoccupied with the fact that she was here and I wasn't dreaming. But it didn't feel too different. "It's not much different."

"Apart from the fact that you're legal now," Caitlin said, a smirk on her face. I knew she didn't mean anything by it – she was just being her typical annoying self – but I couldn't help the blush from creeping across my face. Which satisfied her to no end, I could tell.

"Cait, that is the least of my worries right now. I'm just..." I trailed off, shrugging. "So... what'd you get me?"

She rolled her eyes, holding out her arms. "Hello? I'm here? Is that not enough for you?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I stood up, out of bed. "Come on, Caitlin. I'm eighteen. You must have gotten me something! Even if it's one of our cheap homemade presents."

Me and Cait had a ritual where, if we couldn't think of anything to buy, we made something kooky and fun. Something that would make us laugh. Like last year, Caitlin's present from me was a photo album full of her crazy faces. Every photo I had in which she was pulling a weird face was cut out and stuck into the book. She'd loved it. And I'd loved making it.

"I left it in the other room," she relented, pointing over her shoulder. "So you'll have to get changed and everything and then come through. I think Shane got you a present too..."

This made me stop my search for clothes, but when I looked up the door was just closing behind her as she left me to change. What? Shane had gotten me a present? But why? I barely knew him. How would he know what to get me? I... I don't think I'd know what to get him.

Hurriedly pulling a red Ramones t-shirt over my head and pulling on some black jeans, I left the bedroom and padded into the living area, where Shane, Nate, Jason and Caitlin were sitting. The three band members were talking and Caitlin, while she was doing pretty well at fitting in, was obviously in slight awe of this. Like I'd been at first. It was kinda scary sitting in a room full of people that you'd seen on TV and never would've imagined could be sitting opposite you. Intimidating.

I could smell breakfast cooking, which had seemed normal in the first few seconds. But then I realized that everybody was sitting around the coffee table. So... who was cooking breakfast? "Wait a second... who's cooking breakfast?"

A grin spread across Shane's face. "Well..."

Not taking my eyes from him, I walked around the corner to the kitchen, glancing away only to see who was frying bacon. And when I saw who it was, I did a definite double take. "Mom! Dad!"

My mom grinned at me, leaving the bacon momentarily so that she could scoop me up in a hug. "I missed you so much! Even if it has only been a few days."

I pulled away and ran over to greet my dad, hugging him before turning around to find Shane hanging in the doorway again. "You."

"Me?" he questioned, pointing at himself.

I nodded. "Thank you. I... I mean, I hadn't really been thinking about my birthday, what with your family and adjusting to tour life and all of the crazy stuff that's been going down... but I'd have missed my mom and dad."

"I know. And they'd have missed you too. Plus, eighteen? It's a big birthday. You'd have wondered what it could've been like if you'd spent it with your parents. And now you can. Happy birthday?"

I smiled, walking around the island and hesitating for only a second before I pulled him into a hug. It was just a hug, right? It might just have been wishful thinking, but I thought I heard his breath hitch slightly when I stood on my tiptoes slightly to whisper into his ear. "Thank you. So much."

"It's no problem. Really. They got on the plane and were here in about an hour." He made it sound like it was no big deal. Like he hadn't arranged for my parents to fly out of their state, free of charge, with luxuries that they'd never have gotten on a normal flight just because it was my birthday.

Pulling back, I bit my lip. "Sure it wasn't."

"Breakfast!" My mom, who had gone back to the bacon when I was talking to Shane, called and suddenly the small kitchen was full of people. Amazing what the lure of food could do, huh? I managed to shoot Shane another smile before I was pulled into helping hand out plates and serve food on them. It was amazing. How many people would have done that for someone they'd just met, I wondered. Not many. Not many at all.

Breakfast was a fun affair. We talked, while balancing our plates full of food precariously on our laps, like we'd all known each other for years. Caitlin and Nate laughing about the stupid things they'd done on previous tours. My mom and Jason talking about food and what they liked. My dad and Shane rabbiting on about cars and the best ones to drive. I sat there, joining in in various conversations when I could, but most just revelling in the fact that this had all happened so fast, yet nobody seemed to be fazed by it. Nobody seemed to care that it had been one week since I'd met Shane and now I was on tour with him.

"No way!" I cried, shaking my head as the conversation – now including everyone; the separate conversations had ceased and everybody was focussing on Shane and what he was saying – moved around to the paparazzi episode. "That didn't happen at all."

"Mitchie! I am telling you, you sent that guy major death glares. If looks could kill... ouch." Shane made a hissing noise as though he'd been burned and everybody laughed. Even I couldn't resist a smile, rolling my eyes at him.

"I did not," I said, shaking my head but knowing that I was going to give in. Folding my arms, I looked away from all of them and up at the roof of the bus. "But whatever."

Caitlin laughed. "Ooh, whatever. Touched a nerve did we?"

"I think we did," Nate laughed along with her, trying to catch my eye. I deliberately avoided eye contact with everyone, faking an annoyed air.

Shane shrugged, pushing me lightly. "She'll get over it."

I glanced over at him, still pretending to be mad. "Nice to know you care so much, Grey."

He laughed, pointing at himself and raising his eyebrows as though to say 'well, what did you expect?'. "I'm Shane Grey. If it doesn't concern me, I don't care at all. Surely you know that by now, Mitch."

That wasn't it at all, and he knew it. But that little bit of ego that remained wanted me to tell him that he was wrong and that he cared about a lot more than just himself. Just so that he could hear it from someone other than himself. I opened my mouth to reply to this; something along the lines of telling him that I should've known that and of course he only cared about himself, but Caitlin cut me off.

"Ha. I'm sorry, Shane, but nobody here buys that at all. Not after what you said about Mitchie to all those reporters." Her voice took on a slightly teasing tone, and she couldn't feel Shane tense up like I could. "She's changed me. She's probably the most honest person I've ever - "

Shane stood up, grabbing the empty plate from my knee and piling it on top of his own. "I'll take these through. Clear up as we go along..."

Without taking anybody else's plates (apparently washing up was an excuse used a lot by these boys to get out of awkward situations) he walked out of the living area, leaving silence behind.

I was stunned. I'd only heard a fraction of what he'd said, but I wanted to hear more. I wanted to know what else he'd said about me. But he didn't seem to want to talk about it. Did that mean he didn't mean it? Did he regret saying those things? Or was it something else?

Caitlin looked around, looking slightly sheepish. "What did I say?"

"Nothing. I'll go and - " Nate moved his plate from his knee, getting ready to push himself from the couch and go and talk to Shane.

"No." I interrupted, shaking my head. "No, it's okay. I'll go."

Collecting the remaining plates, I left the room, hearing the conversation start up again. My mom and dad must not know what to think. Or maybe they did. Maybe they'd seen it. Maybe they knew more than I did.

Shane was standing at the sink, watching it fill with water. Wow. It looked like he was actually going to wash up. Weird.

I cleared my throat to let him know that I was there, and then made my way over, placing the plates gently in the filling sink. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He nodded, not turning to look at me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I just... you asked me what I said when we were cooking, right?"

I nodded, not wanting to say anything in case I said the wrong thing. In case I stopped him from speaking about this, when I wanted to know so badly.

"Well, I was going to answer. So don't be counting that as a question I couldn't answer, okay?" His eyes lifted and met mine.

"I promise," I said, smiling slightly.

Shane shrugged, turning away from the sink and leaning his weight back on the counter. "I said that you'd shown me what a jerk I was. I said... well. I think my exact words were: Mitchie's one of a kind. Really, she is. And she's shown me how stupid I was to take everything for granted and she's honestly one of my best friends. I might only have known her five days, but I can't imagine ever not knowing her and – as you can see – while she's around, my attitude will definitely be kept in line. She's changed me, is one of the most honest people I've ever met and for as long as she puts up with having a friend like me, I probably won't be the Shane Grey you all expect. Which isn't a bad thing at all."

Oh. It was a strange feeling. My heart both rose and sunk at the same time. On one hand, he'd said that I was one of his best friends and everything he'd said about me was full of compliments and nice things about me. But on the other hand... friends. Friends. That damn word. I didn't _want _to be just friends with Shane Grey. I didn't _want _that. But what could I do about it?

Nothing. That was the answer. I couldn't do a thing. Because I was one of his best friends. And that was my place. Where I belonged.

---

Cait gave me her present after breakfast – an amazing charm bracelet with musical notes hanging from it and then a photo album of all of my crazy faces, just so we both had one. That had given Shane, Nate and Jason a good laugh.

Mom and Dad had surprised me a massive amount by handing me KEYS TO A CAR. I screamed and hugged them for about ten minutes, ranting about how amazing they were. Sure, Caitlin had gotten hers for her sixteenth, but I didn't mind waiting. And okay, so I had to wait until I got back before I could drive it, but that didn't matter to me. I had one. And it was there. And it was so brilliantly cool.

Jason handed over a box of chocolates that he'd obviously gone out to buy that morning, which was totally nice of him. He didn't have to buy me anything. And then Nate had given me a card, expressing his thanks, which I also thought was nice. Neither of them knew me all that well, yet they'd still gone to the effort to get me _something. _Remind me again why I'd hated these guys to begin with?

And Shane... turns out, he wasn't satisfied with just bringing my best friend and my parents to see me on my birthday. He pulled me aside after the rest of my presents had been handed out.

"Your present is coming. I'm sorry it isn't... that it isn't more, but I just didn't know what to get you and... well. I'll explain more when I have it." It was odd, because he actually looked nervous. About a present that I wasn't even going to get yet. But whatever it was, I knew I'd love it. Because – as I've said about a hundred times – he shouldn't have felt compelled to get me anything. But he did. And it was always the thought that counts, wasn't it?

It was when midnight approached and my mom and dad and Caitlin had to get on the plane to go home (they'd all agreed that leaving that night would be best. Caitlin had homework for school, and both my mom and dad had work on Monday... they'd get back in the early hours of the morning as it was...) that I felt sad. I had to say goodbye all over again. And while I knew that it was stupid – that I'd be seeing and speaking to them even sooner than when I first left my house for this tour – I couldn't help but feel sad as they got in the limo to go back to the plane. We'd been parked in the car park of the venue of the next concert – scheduled for the next day – and now there was a limo, ready to whisk my parents and best friend back to the jet in order to take them home. Away. Again.

I watched as Nate and Caitlin swapped numbers (which was totally sweet – they'd gotten along really well all day and I almost wanted to scream with her about it and say that she should totally get together with him as soon as possible and then come on tour with us, but knew that she couldn't and that she'd hate me for making such a scene when he was right there) and as my mom and dad thanked Shane profusely for what he'd done. I knew I'd thanked him a million times that day, but I couldn't help but want to thank him a million more. I was so grateful. It had been so fun. Just spending the day, talking, relaxing, laughing... sure, it wasn't how many people would spend their eighteenth birthday – a party would probably be on the cards – but I was in the company of everyone I loved. Plus one of the biggest bands in the country. What more could I ask for?

I said my goodbyes, keeping them as short and tearless as possible and waved as my mom got into the limousine, the final one to climb in, and shut the door behind her. As it pulled out of the parking lot, I turned to face Shane with a sigh. "I know I've said it countless times, but thank you so freaking much."

He shrugged again, waving it off. "It's fine. You were happy. It was great to see you happy. And it was the least I could do, after all my family drama that I put you through yesterday. You deserved a good birthday."

"I wanted to help. You didn't have to do anything for the family stuff. I wanted to be there. And besides... it was kind of fun." I said, stepping closer to him. "Your sister was nice."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she liked you too. You guys are going to get way too close for comfort for me, aren't you? Next thing you'll be going to her slumber parties and she'll be sharing baby photos of me."

I laughed. "If she makes me an offer like that, I won't be able to refuse. Just to let you know."

"Thank you for warning me," he smiled, and for the first time I noticed that the space between us was pretty small.

The awkward silence was back. It seemed to haunt situations like this. When we were alone, it crept up on us, only making itself known when we couldn't escape it. Except this time... I wanted to try and say something. Maybe it was the fact that he'd done something so incredibly nice. Maybe it was the fact that he'd said all those things about me. Or maybe I was just finally going crazy and cracking. But whichever maybe it was... I didn't care.

"Shane... I need to... I need to tell you something. And it might be totally out of order but I just..." I stammered, alternating my gaze between his eyes – his amazing eyes that I almost got lost in every time I looked in them – and his scuffed Converse sneakers. What was I saying? Half of my brain was screaming at me to shut the hell up. It was telling me to be quiet and not ruin everything by speaking where I shouldn't be speaking. He wouldn't like it. He'd laugh at me. And then the other half... was egging me on. Telling me to keep going and that everything would work out as I wanted it to.

Speak.

Don't speak.

Tell.

Don't tell.

My brain was having a meltdown at what could be one of the most important moments of my life. Couldn't it have picked a better time to freak out on me? Though... I guess it wouldn't. Because it was only because of this moment that it was even screaming at me. If I'd just gotten back on the bus and watched TV, this would never be happening and my brain would just be telling me to stop looking at Shane in case I gave myself away.

"I just..." I repeated, trying to make something coherent come out of the mess that was my mind at that very moment in time.

Shane was just watching me; waiting for some sort of sense to come out of my mouth. I wondered what was going through his head at that very moment in time.

I love you?

You're amazing?

I have this absolutely huge, mind blowing, crazy, tongue-tying, heart-flipping, stomach-knotting crush on you, is that okay?

I couldn't say any of those things without sounding like a complete... ugh. Say something! Anything! Now!

"I was just wond - "

"Shane!" Jason called from the doorway of the bus, where his head appeared for a few seconds. "Jeff wants to speak to us about a tour thing!"

Shane looked annoyed – or was that just my imagination – as he turned to face Jason before looking back at me. "Can we talk later? Only, I don't think Jeff will wait. And... maybe it'll give you time to think about what you want to say?"

I could only nod. God, I must have looked and sounded so stupid. Ugh. And later? I might not have the courage later. I didn't even have the courage now! But I nodded anyway, causing him to jump on the bus with only a backwards glance in my direction.

When I was sure he was on the bus, I groaned, crouching on the floor and putting my head in my hands. Why was this so complicated? Why wouldn't my tongue just work when I wanted it to? Why did this have to happen? Things would have been so much easier if I hadn't fallen for him. If I'd just been the person I was supposed to be. The friend. Things would have been so much easier if I was just the friend.

Too bad that real life hates giving you the easy way out, isn't it?


	20. You Know You Want It

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ So, as I type these words I have 299 reviews for Believe In Me. Do you know how much that absolutely rocks? I just... I can't believe it. But of course, I have to believe it, because it's there. Right above this chapter. Reviews: 299. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I hope you like this chapter too! It blows my mind that this is my 20__th__ chapter – it feels like yesterday I was finishing up the first chapter and wondering if anybody would like it – and there's only 7 more left! Thank you so much. This is more than I ever expected. So I'm just trying to give back, and give you guys chapters that you like. I hope this is one of them._

_**Disclaimer: **__I have no witty disclaimers – Camp Rock = not mine. Simple as._

_**Music: **__I Want It All - HSM3_

"**You want it, you know that you want it"**

"_I never thought that I'd get hit, by this love bug again,"_ I plucked away slowly at the strings of my guitar in one of my rare alone moments on the tour. Mitchie had disappeared after talking to Jason for a few moments – I hadn't been able to catch everything that they'd said – and while I was curious as to what they were doing, I knew that I had to leave some space between us. Otherwise I might as well just have painted the fact that I loved her on a banner and got one of the crazy fans to hold it up at a concert.

We had our last concert in New Jersey later and the sound check had been taken care of, everyone was chilling out and getting ready for the actual process of getting ready. Getting ready was half the concert. Bet not many people would have guessed that. Tomorrow we were headed for Pennsylvania, but not before a photoshoot and interview that had been booked in at the last minute. I'd been warned to be prepared for them asking about Mitchie and what was going on there, which would have usually annoyed me to no end. But I wasn't as bothered anymore. I trusted myself not to say something stupid and she'd be there...

This song was still giving me trouble though. I could sing the two verses that I already had, over and over, but nothing was striking me as inspiration for the last one. The only one I needed. I couldn't come up with the last thing I needed, which sucked so much. Why was it that I felt more inspired by Mitchie than I had before, but I couldn't finish this one song that had been bugging me so much? How was I meant to play this song for her as a birthday present, if I never finished it?

I'd decided that it was the ideal thing to do for her birthday for two reasons. One, it was one of the best things I'd written and I knew that she'd appreciate it. I knew that she'd listen to it and actually appreciate it, instead of just learning the words like the fangirls I'd met in every other city. And two... it had been one of the things I'd wanted to do. Write a love song for someone. I figured that if I couldn't tell her through a song – which was what came naturally to me, in normal circumstances – then how was I ever going to be able to tell her?

Exactly. I wouldn't.

Leaning forward and scanning the very scribbled bit of paper that I'd been doodling random lyrics and snippets that came into my head, I tried to think of something that could come next. There had to be _something _there that I could use. There had to be _something _worthwhile on that piece of paper.

I picked up the melody again, testing out a few ideas. "_You amaze me more and more each day, with all the little things you do and say..."_

Shaking my head, I groaned and resisted the urge to bang my head on something. This was not easy. Everything I came up with was either too cliché or didn't work with the song. Sometimes I couldn't even define what was wrong with it, I just knew it wasn't right. Like those lyrics. They fitted in, but they weren't right. And I needed right. Perfect. I needed perfect.

My cell phone rang, bringing me out of my annoyed lyric writing mode and just into my annoyed 'nothing's-going-right' mode. I didn't even bother to look at the caller ID before I picked it up, figuring that it was just Hayley or something. She'd called a few times over the past few days, which had been great. I felt like I was her big brother again, and not just a stranger in her life. I was in the loop.

"Hey."

The giggle that greeted me on the other end of the phone took my attention away from my guitar and onto working out who the hell was on the other line. Because it was most definitely not my sister. "Hey Shaney."

_Shaney? _Who was this girl? "Um... hello? Do I know you?"

Another giggle. "You should. Everybody knows me. Don't you recognise my voice, Shane?"

"If I recognised your voice, would I have asked if I knew you?" I asked, an edge of annoyance sneaking into my tone. I couldn't be bothered with guessing games. And plus, this girl's voice was starting to irk me more than a little.

"It's me, Shane. Summer Eckheart?" She sounded a little less sure of herself now, which was no bad thing. But now I could put a face to her voice. Oh yeah. Hot new singer. One of those manufactured, voice-synthesized, couldn't write her own songs if her life depended on it singers, who didn't really deserve what they had. Mitchie deserved it so much more. And I'm not even saying that because I love her. I'm saying that because she has a kickass voice that should most definitely be heard.

But how had this girl gotten my cell phone number?

"Oh. Hi?" I said, putting my guitar down properly and wondering how I was getting this phone call and why. And whatever she was suggesting, the answer was a no.

"Hi! I just wanted to say again that I am such a mega fan of yours because I met you for like, such a short time last month and I only just found your number, I'm sorry. Otherwise I would've like, most definitely called before. But I was wondering..."

No way. Whatever she was about to say, the answer was a definite no. Especially if it was the question that I had a feeling she was about to ask. And then it was a definite, definite no. There was no way that she would ever receive a yes to that question. In no circumstances.

"I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out sometime. Get coffee or something. I'd love your opinion on music and it would really teach me a lot." Her simpering sweet act sounded too... _fake _to be real. It was too transparent.

"Considering you have someone else write your stuff, I'm not sure how much it would teach you, Summer," I replied, my voice not giving away how annoyed I was. In fact, if she was stupid she'd probably have taken that as a compliment.

She laughed, but it had changed. Now she wasn't as airy as before. The nice way wasn't going to work; what else did she have up her sleeve? I figured it was something. Giving up was not an option where these wannabe Britneys were concerned. They had to have everything they wanted and they had to have it with as little interference as possible.

"Shane. I'll be honest with you: that girl you're seen with? She's not what you're looking for. You're a guy who needs someone who understands what real performers have to go through. You need someone who wants what you want."

I sat back, glad that I was in the room alone. Though it might have been pretty cool to get a recording of this, just so that I could hear myself tear her down again. Like I was going to. Like I was so going to. "And what, exactly, is it that I want?"

"You want publicity. You want people to know who you are. And what better way to get that, than having a high profile celebrity romance? It doesn't even have to be real. A few paparazzi pictures linking us, a kiss or two that they can oh-so-conveniently capture. I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine." Every word that left her mouth convinced me all the more that this girl was evil and that she didn't know me at all. Nobody did. Apart from Mitchie.

"You know what, Summer? I think you've come to the wrong person. I think you've overestimated me. I'm not what you're looking for – I don't want those things. Not anymore." And the weird thing? I knew that I was telling the truth. I knew that I meant every word one hundred percent. "So why don't you hang up the phone and try someone else, who might have similar interests?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds as Summer processed this. I had a feeling that it wouldn't be that easy, but it was worth a try. Maybe this wannabe Britney had a heart after all. Maybe she knew when to give up.

"Shane. Shane, Shane, Shane. You're wrong. You know you want those things. And you claim that you've changed because of that 'Itchie' girl, but you're not going to kid people forever. When you've had enough of the good little girl next door, I'll be waiting. Because I'm not taking no for an answer, Shane Grey. You know you want me."

That tore it. Standing up – though it didn't really have much effect, because I couldn't tower over her when she was on the other end of the phone – I lost my temper for what felt like the first time in months. When it had only been a week and a few days. "Summer, Summer, Summer. Stop being a bitch, work on writing your own material instead of that cookie-cutter popstar stuff that you've been calling music and realize that the world doesn't revolve around you. And God forbid it ever does, because I don't think your ego could get much bigger. I would never and will never want to date you. _Mitchie _is so much more than the good little girl next door, and I can't forsee me ever having enough of spending time with her. And even if that were to happen, you would be the last person on Earth I'd come to. So just shut the hell up and go back to your pathetic little life where you try and get publicity by hooking up with random other celebrities. I'm not in need of your help and I can't think of anything that I'd like to do less than spend a minute in your company so that the whole world can think that I'm dating some flavor-of-the-moment wannabe. Now I'm going to hang up, if that's okay with you. Though, to be honest, I don't care anyway. Get over yourself."

The last thing I heard before I went to hang up, was her laughing again. "You'll regret - "

I didn't hear anything else, because the line went dead and I threw my phone onto the couch, watching it bounce twice before settling. It didn't ring again. She didn't bother calling back.

Well good.

The nerve of some people. How dare she call me and proposition something as... _stupid _as that? As if I'd actually say yes to someone like her? As if I'd actually _appreciate _her doing so? That was beyond stupid. Beyond belief. Beyond...

Ugh.

Groaning frustratedly, I collapsed onto the couch next to my phone. First the song had been going wrong and now Summer Eckheart had decided that I was to be her next tabloid victim? That sucked. That really sucked.

Nate wandered back into the room, changed into his performance clothes. "Whoa. What's up with you?"

"Don't ask." I muttered, running my hand over my face and standing up again, even though I'd only sat down moments before. No point in getting all worked up over something that didn't even matter. How was Summer going to do anything? She couldn't. I was Shane Grey, for crying out loud. What could she possibly do to me that other people hadn't already? Spread rumors? Oops, nope, that one's been done before. Call names? Too late for that one. Make a whole bunch of people hate me? Yeah, there's a great big tick by that one too. There's nothing she can do.

"Mitchie trouble?" Nate asked, opening our newly stocked fridge and pulling out the carton of milk that we'd taken to drinking right out of – but only when Mitchie wasn't around to tell us off. After checking the room quickly to make sure that she wasn't there to yell at him, Nate proceeded to do just this, taking a gulp before setting the carton back down on the small counter.

I walked over to lean near him, my face written into a confused look. "Mitchie trouble?"

He nodded, shrugging at the same time. "Yeah. Dude, everyone can see it. Apart from her, obviously," - he added at my horrified look - "and we all want you to do something about it."

"I... I have no idea..." I began, trailing off as he laughed at me.

"Come off it, Shane. You love her. It's blatantly obvious to those who know you. And even those who don't are picking up on it. The paparazzi pictures of you holding the door of the hotel open for her yesterday morning? The conversations you guys have been overheard having about questions and the flirty banter? Come on. You guys need to do something about what is staring you in the face, because after this tour, who knows what could happen?"

I looked at my old best friend – my still there best friend, come to think of it – who I used to know so much about and now felt like I knew hardly anything. But I'd still been here. And so had he. We'd just felt like we'd been worlds apart. "Don't you think it's too soon? I mean... I've known her just over a week. A week and two days."

"You loved her when you first met her, Shane. It just took you a while to realize it. But hey, you know what they say. Love at first sight and all that. I just... I don't think you should put off telling her that you like her just because you've only known her for a short amount of time. That seems stupid. You love her now, why not tell her now? What will waiting do?" Nate shrugged, putting the milk back in the fridge.

He had a point. But... there was still things stopping me. What if she didn't love me back? What if she laughed at me? What if I went and screwed it up, like I seemed to do with everything else? These things seemed too... I didn't want to discuss them with Nate right now. He'd have an answer for them all, and as much as I trusted him, he wasn't always right. I couldn't let him convince me that he'd be right about this. Nor could I tell him about Summer. It just... we weren't back to how we were. Not yet.

"Get ready for the show, Shane. And do me a favor and tell her soon?" Nate said, evidently able to tell that I wasn't at my most comfortable talking about this. Which I appreciated. It was cool; he wanted to talk about something but didn't push the subject because I didn't want to. That wasn't something he'd have done before Mitchie. He'd have pushed it and I'd have gotten mad. Maybe we were all changing.

"Yeah, yeah." I rolled my eyes, walking to the room that I'd previously occupied and getting ready to open the door, before I heard music and hesitated. It was good. The sounds were obviously coming from a computer, because they were too synthesized to be a real piano, but there was real guitar accompaniment. Someone had written this song, and it was most probably one of the two people in the room. Mitchie or Jason.

A stab of jealousy hit me. She'd written a song with Jason? Or had he written a song? Had he written it about her? Or the other way around? Was I fooling myself?

"_You fled from medication cause it only causes pain_

_You won't go to the doctor, he keeps callin' you insane_

_You're lost even when you're goin' the right way_

_You mean the world to me even though you might be crazy"_

The words and music abruptly stopped, a groan from Mitchie floating from the crack in the open door.

"Ugh! I can't think of what to say next! Why can't I think of anything? I just... I know what I want to say but it won't come out right - "

I couldn't do this. As much as I wanted to hear what she was going to come up with, I couldn't hang outside the door, eavesdropping. I wasn't a part of this conversation and so I couldn't try to be. And besides, it didn't sound like she'd written it for Jason, which was good for me. I didn't need to know anything else.

Knocking lightly on the door, I pushed it open and pretended I'd only just walked up outside. "Hey, Jason, we need to get ready for the - " I took in the image in front of me – Jason sitting on the bed and Mitchie on the floor, clutching one of Jason's guitars to her body – and smiled. "Was I missing Mitchie singing?"

Jason laughed, nodding. "She's really good. But yeah, we need to get ready?"

I nodded, motioning out the door. "Nate's all ready. I'm not sure what the rush is, but you know Nate. Always ahead of himself."

"Okay. I'll help more later, okay Mitchie?" Jason said, standing up and when he received a nod from the girl sitting on the floor, bounded into the room where he was to get ready.

Walking across the floor and taking a seat on the floor beside her, I sat back on my hands, just watching her. She blushed slightly, making a move as though to put the guitar down but I put a hand out and stopped her. "What? You'll sing for Jason, but not for me?"

"Um... yes?" She said, in a shyer tone as opposed to the biting sarcasm that I was used to. When it came to her music, Mitchie was definitely a different person. It wasn't a bad thing. In fact, I kind of liked it. I didn't know why, but it was almost endearing.

I pouted at her. "Well hey, that's hardly fair."

She opened her mouth to reply, but a yell from Nate from the other room stopped her.

"SHANE! JASON! HURRY UP!"

I rolled my eyes, standing up and looking down at her where she sat. She looked back up at me, looking slightly relieved that the most neurotic member of Connect 3 had started to freak out over absolutely nothing and got her out of singing. "You're off the hook. For now. But I'll get back to bugging you about it, I will."

"Sure. Whatever, Pop Star," she replied, from her sitting position. Pulling the guitar strap from around her neck, she lay it carefully on the floor before standing up to attempt to match my height. She didn't. I was still taller than her.

I backed out of the room, heading to get ready for yet another performance where I knew she'd be watching me from the wings. "You may have escaped me this time. But you'll have to sing again sometime. And I'll be around to hear it."

Mitchie just grinned at me, rolling her eyes. "Good to know."

I didn't reply, just backed away to get the clothes that I'd be rocking out in in a few hours. She'd have to sing again sometime. But I wouldn't force her into it. I'd wait. Patience is a virtue, right?

Or... something like that anyway.


	21. What's My Age Again?

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ So, this isn't a drama filled chapter (that's the next one) but it'll be slightly relevant later on. Just a little bit. But it's the next one that you guys have been waiting for – you know what I mean when I say that, I'm sure – and I'm getting onto writing that one as soon as I'm done posting this up for you. Even though I do have an English essay due and some Politics stuff... it can all wait until I have the next chapter ready for you all. It's not that urgent. And this one is REALLY long and I don't know how - I just kept writing. But I hope you like it anyways. :D  
_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own the DVD and the soundtrack... but not the rights._

_**Music: **What's My Age Again - Blink-182  
_

**"What's my age again, what's my age again?_"_**

I bit the end of my pencil, my teeth cutting into the wooden edges of it as I tried to work out what could go next. Usually whenever I got inspiration for a song I just... let it flow out of me. I just let the words come, and it usually cumulated into something worthwhile. Or sometimes it didn't and I forgot that song had ever been written. But this time I was actually working hard at the lyrics. I'd had a million possibilities, but none of them had seemed right. And I wanted right. I looked over at Shane for a few seconds, who seemed to be poring over a scrap of paper that had obviously been doodled on a heck of a lot too.

I bet he never had this trouble writing songs.

Tilting my head to one side as I watched him, I wondered what he was reading. Every so often he'd grab his bit of paper and scribble something, before frowning and going over what he'd written in big black lines.

Or... maybe he did have the same sort of trouble writing songs. If that's what he was doing, that is. But his expression looked almost exactly what I think mine would've, if I'd been looking in a mirror.

He heaved a sigh, tapping a bouncy sort of rhythm with his pen before scribbling out the majority of what was written on the page and then looking up to catch me looking at him. I quickly glanced away, back at my paper. Didn't want him to think I'd been staring at him, or anything. I mean... I'd been so close to telling him on my birthday. So freaking close. And then I'd just... chickened out. I'd gone over possible scenarios in my head and tried to map out what I was going to say and in every scenario, Shane had laughed at me and I'd ended up with my heart broken. In every single one. I couldn't take getting that sort of reception. So Shane had no idea what I'd been about to say and honestly, he hadn't brought it up. Which was kind of relieving.

When I next glanced up, he'd gone back to antagonizing over his writing. Oh yeah, it was definitely song trouble. I thought about asking him if I could help at all, and then realized that I was in the same position. I probably wasn't in the best creative mind to help him.

The words on my page blurred in front of my eyes, telling me to just give up. I couldn't even read them anymore, what hope did I have? I gave into them, folding the paper up and slipping it into my magazine that I'd bought the day before. Hopefully Shane wouldn't look there for anything. Then I stood up, figuring that we'd be at our destination soon. We were stopping into a magazine studio to give an interview and a photoshoot. Well... I say we, but they wanted Connect 3 really. I was just... there. But I didn't really mind that. I suppose I had to expect it.

"We're here," Nate announced, just as I'd stood up. Perfect timing much?

The bus ground to a halt and I watched as Shane folded his paper up and put it in his pocket. Just in case he got inspiration inside? I considered taking my lyrics inside too, but decided against it within seconds. There was no way I'd be that lucky. I'd be spending too much time watching the interview and photoshoot proceedings.

"This'll be a learning experience," Shane muttered to me before he opened the door, looked outside and then closed it just as quickly. "Mitch, just keep walking, okay?"

I wrinkled my nose, wondering what he was talking about. When he pushed the door open again though – fully this time – I saw the flashes going off and put two and two together. Wow. It must really suck, having to put up with this all the time. I'd only been living with it for a few days and I was already annoyed of it. Oh well, at least I'd managed to wash my hair this morning so it didn't look completely gross. And my outfit... wasn't ideal for photographs, but it'd do.

Oh my god, I'd been on tour with Connect 3 for literally six days (and known Shane for only four more days than that) and I was practically an expert on what outfits were ideal for paparazzi moments. That was... insane. I was obviously insane.

Straightening out my maroon shirt, I made my way to the door of the bus and ignored Shane's offer of his hand to help me down. The photographers would love that. Holding hands; that's what they'd spin it to. Which, as much I'd love it to be true, it wasn't.

"Shane! Mitchie! Smile for the camera!" Various voices erupted from around us, and it was all still crazy when I thought about it. Why did they want to hear from me? I was now famous by association, which... well, I hadn't made up my mind about that yet. On one hand, they knew my name. But on the other... what had I done? I hadn't sung, hadn't acted, hadn't done anything worth recognition. Yet these people wanted a picture of me. And it was all because I knew someone famous – I knew someone famous and people thought there was something going on there. So immediately I was a face that the public _wanted _to see?

"Keep walking, Mitch." I felt Shane's hand on my back and just made out his words in amongst all the crazy shouting. It was fairly easy to navigate my way through the crowd – Big Rob leading the way, of course, so I probably shouldn't have been surprised – and soon enough I was being pushed through the front doors of the magazine headquarters by Shane, with Nate and Jason following behind.

A smiley woman greeted us, holding her hand out for me to shake it almost as soon as I'd made eye contact with her. "You must be Mitchie! Wow, it's really good to meet you. I've met the boys before, but obviously not you."

"Hey," was all I could think of in reply, smiling back at this woman as she shook my hand so vigorously that I was incredibly glad that it was firmly attached to my body. Otherwise I may have been in danger of losing it.

"I'm Monica Watkins, and I'm going to be interviewing you guys today, like last time. But which would you like to get out of the way first: the photoshoot or the interview?" She turned to the guys, her eyes sliding across all three of them as she spoke. I guessed she'd done many interviews like this one and that they were no big deal to her anymore.

Shane shrugged, motioning for one of the others to answer. With his new attitude, he'd evidently decided to give other people a look-in too. I smiled at him and he grinned back, while Nate gave Monica an answer to her question.

"Interview?"

She clapped and nodded, motioning for us to follow her. "Alright! Well, it won't take too long. A few questions, we'll get you guys all looking fabulous – which obviously won't be too hard – and then snap a few photos. And then you'll be on your way."

Leading us down a long hallway, lined with rooms and notice boards that were full of pictures, post-it-notes and headlines for the next issue of whatever magazine we were at. Wow, that wasn't good. I didn't even know what magazine we were at. Well... hopefully they wouldn't ask. I took a look at the other pictures that were hung up on the walls, spotting a lot of people I recognized. Christina Aguilera! Foo Fighters! And, of course, a lovely picture of Connect 3. That was obviously a few years old, seeing as Shane was sporting a very nice short hairstyle as opposed to his long hair now. He saw me spot it, rolling his eyes as I made a face.

"I was young and naïve," he said, in an attempt to defend his younger looking self.

I laughed, shrugging. "Hey, I didn't say a word. In fact, I was wondering what happened – you were cute back then."

"Whereas I'm just plain hot now, right?" Shane asked, a glint in his eye and his eyebrow raised as Monica stopped and gestured for us to go into one of the many rooms. Inside was a couch and two armchairs, a coffee table and a drinks machine, amongst some more pictures and a TV.

Following Nate and Jason into the room, I rolled my eyes at Shane and thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't blushed at his comment, however egotistical it was. "Keep telling yourself that, Pop Star."

"Keep telling yourself that I'm not, Roof Girl." He sat down on the couch, pulling me down next to him and then lounging back so that he was comfortable.

A knock came on the door – timid and almost shy – and I turned around to see a girl who was about Shane's age standing there awkwardly. "Can I get you guys anything? Mr. Grey?"

Mr. Grey? It was one of the first times that I'd ever seen other people's reactions to him. His fans didn't count – they loved him no matter what, so the jerk persona didn't bother them. And Nate and Jason and Jeff didn't treat him any differently. Or, I didn't think they did. They'd been annoyed at his attitude before, why would they have acted like he was superior to them? But this girl... she was. She looked really scared of him. She was _scared _of Shane Grey and what he might do to her.

Shane tensed slightly as he realized this too, smiling at her. I could tell that he was trying to work out how to handle the situation. Acknowledge it or not? "I'm good, thank you. Nate and Jason might want something though... or Mitchie. You want anything?" He turned to me and I could see the doubt in his mind. He was trying to make sure that I was okay with this. That I hadn't seen how the girl had reacted and decided that I didn't care anymore or something.

I shook my head, smiling reassuringly first at him and then at the girl who was still hovering in the door. "No thanks. I'm fine."

"We'll get some water from the machine," Nate said, also smiling at her. I wondered if he'd noticed the way in which Shane reacted, or whether he'd just shrugged it off. It probably happened all the time; Nate had probably seen a lot of people acting like that around Shane.

It was weird. I... yeah. It was just weird.

Monica was sitting opposite us, Jason had sat down next to me and Nate had taken the other armchair. She looked at me and Shane, a smile on her face as she scanned us both, sitting side by side on the couch. "Wow, I guess it's true what they're saying then?"

I bit my lip, hoping that my luck with not blushing before was going to hold out throughout this interview. "Well... that depends what they're saying. And who they are. Wait... what are they saying? And who are they?"

A laugh rippled around the room at my mini-ramble.

"Well, everyone's heard what Shane said about you and what you said the other day. You guys are like... the hot new couple of the celebrity world. Nobody knows who you are, but they sure know that you've changed Shane Grey, which must mean you're pretty amazing." Monica sat back, a tape recorder in her hands. Pressing a button, it began flashing and she placed it on the coffee table. It was recording? So anything I said could be recorded and would be on record? Anything I said could be used against me? Over and over?

Shane sat forward, but I didn't see his face. He moved so fast that I could only see the back of his head as he leaned forward to talk to Monica. "We're not dating. Just... wanted to get that clear and on the record."

I looked at my knees, working on masking the disappointment I felt. I mean, obviously he had to make that clear. I knew that. But it still... I still wanted it to happen. You know, you can't just be okay with everything because you know it's for the best. That's not how human emotions work. We try our hardest to conceal them most of the time, but end up sucking at it. The more we do it, the harder it becomes. And unfortunately, love was easier to fall into than out of.

"You're... not?" The surprise was evident in Monica's voice and I looked up in time to catch her looking from me to Shane with her eyebrows raised. "Well... I would have bet everything I owned... but cool. Just friends?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we actually only met - what was it? - a week ago?"

Shane nodded too, catching my eye and grinning. "A week and three days, to be totally exact. We were playing a concert in Mitchie's home town and I... ran into her."

"He saw her at the show and went stalking her," Nate chipped in, earning a glare from Shane.

"No I didn't. We met again by total coincidence. I went for a walk and found myself outside a house where this girl was sitting on her roof singing..." Shane began, sitting back so that I could see his face again.

I slipped into the story, giving my side too. "I'd just been to see them with my best friend and couldn't sleep so I went out onto my roof and the next thing I knew, someone was in the bushes. Only they wouldn't tell me who they were, so it ended up being a guessing game for me..."

"She kept asking me questions and I was being as vague as possible because... well, I don't know. I didn't want her to find out who I was, just in case she turned out like everyone else. Screaming over me and not taking the time to..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence but also not wanting to make it obvious.

I cut in, trying to have his back. "Anyway, eventually he gave it away and I... well, I fell off my roof. Which was not the most graceful thing I could've done, I'll admit it."

"You took me out too, Mitch."

"And I said sorry for that! But it was your fault that you tried to play the hero. What were you gonna do, _catch _me?" I was almost losing myself; forgetting that this was an interview and not just a conversation. I was being recorded, for crying out loud.

Shane seemed lost for words as he thought this over, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing and shrugging. "I don't know. I guess. You were... falling. What else could I do? You'd have thought I was a jerk if I just stood there."

"And she didn't think you were a jerk anyway?" Nate said, laughing. I smiled at him – he'd obviously been filled in more about what I'd said that night. I couldn't really remember the words, but I'd definitely said something along those lines.

"Shut up, Nate."

I rolled my eyes, pushing Shane lightly. "He's the one with the point. I did think you were a jerk."

"I know you did. You told me so. She totally called me out and I just... she was totally right. I was an idiot and there was something about a total stranger telling me this that made me... anyway, we hung out and I was an idiot and forgot that walking around in a town that I was unfamiliar with at night probably was going to result in me getting lost."

"So I had to show him the way back to the bus. And then they decided that I had to stay because it was too late and Shane was trying to be chivalrous and not let me walk home on my own at midnight..."

Jason cleared his throat. "That was my idea."

"And so she came in and stayed and we didn't realize that the paparazzi were taking pictures and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. And the kids at Mitchie's school were being total b - "

I interrupted, cutting him off mid-word. "This girl was giving me trouble and I told Shane and he..."

"He got obsessive over it. Seriously, everything was Mitchie this and Mitchie that," Nate said. This whole story was being told by four different people – it was no wonder Monica was looking slightly taken aback by it all. "So our manager decided that it would be best to have Mitchie come on tour with us. You know, to make Shane happy and to get her out of the way of the kids at school."

"And my parents agreed and so... here I am," I finished, determined to get the last word.

Unfortunately, with Shane that was never allowed. "Here she is. It's more than awesome."

Monica hesitated before saying anything else, grinning at us after a few seconds. "That is a... strange story. But a good one. So, are you liking it Mitchie? Is touring with the guys what you'd expect?"

I laughed, shrugging. "Well. I didn't expect being the only one who could cook, and quite frankly I'm not having cereal for dinner every night. So I'm head chef. And I did not expect to find that Shane spends more time in the bathroom than I do. And, my mom will be really pleased to know that these guys are making me do some school work. But no, it's awesome. I love it. I'm getting to hang out with these three really cool guys and see them perform. I've got to meet Shane's mom and dad and sister and they were all really nice. And I'm just... it's an amazing experience. I just wish that Shane would let me sleep on the couch, so I don't feel totally guilty."

At the confused expression on our interviewer's face, Shane started to explain. "I gave up my bed so that Mitchie didn't have to sleep on the couch. She doesn't like it because she cares about me way too much and doesn't like the idea of me sleeping on the couch. Even though it was my idea in the first place."

"If you ever needed proof that Shane's changed, it's right there," Nate said, gesturing to him. "The old Shane would have never given up his bed for anyone. Now he's on the couch."

"And it's not that comfortable," Jason added, throwing in his two cents.

"It's fine!" Shane insisted, glancing at me as though to try and throw me. He wanted me to fall for it.

I rolled my eyes. "No it's not. I'm not stupid. No, it's not."

"Honestly, regardless of whether it's comfortable or not, I'm not letting you sleep on it at all, so this conversation might as well end now. There is no way I am allowing you to sleep on the couch while I'm in a bed. That's just... no way is it happening, Mitch." Shane shook his head at me. I knew him well enough after this week and three days to know that arguing back was futile. I'd just have to feel guilty whenever I got up in the morning and found him sleeping on the couch.

"She knows it's not comfortable anyway," Jason started. "I mean, she slept on it her first night - "

Nate coughed, obviously working out where he was going and being the first of the three of us to stop him. "Yeah, we were watching TV and Mitchie fell asleep. So she might've guessed, right Jason?"

Confusion clouded Jason's face for half a second, before he figured out what Nate was getting at (which was to just stop talking now) and nodded. "Yeah. That's what I meant, obviously."

I could tell that Monica didn't buy it, and she turned her gaze to me and Shane who hadn't partaken in trying to get Jason to be quiet. Her eyes lingered on us for a few seconds before she decided against asking whatever she was going to ask and moved on. "So, guys. You're coming to the end of this 'Up Close and Personal' tour. Has it been what you expected? Has it been a success?"

"Absolutely," Nate nodded. "I think... we're constantly going to be reverting back to the thing you probably want to know most about – for which I'm sorry Shane." He looked over at his band member and Shane just gave a shrug, so Nate continued. "I think it's been a huge success. We've managed to see and meet fans that we wouldn't have otherwise. We've been taken back into the world that we left before this whole fame thing happened, which I think has helped all of us. Some more than others, obviously."

"It's been great seeing different faces. And I like going to all the new places," Jason agreed with him. "I mean, we've been to the big arenas a million times. This is smaller places. It's nicer."

Attention turned to Shane, as Monica re-phrased her question specifically for him. "So, Shane. What about you? You've changed more on this tour than anybody would have ever anticipated. Why, how and is it here to stay?"

"I... I don't know. I know that the person that I was... was an idiot. I know and I knew that while I was being that person, but I just... I never really did anything about it. Like just now. That coffee girl came into the room and she was genuinely scared that I was going to snap; that I was going to be unreasonable and demanding and I just... I don't know how I ever got to that point. When you're living it, it doesn't seem as bad as it does when you look back. I look back and think about all the crap things I did and said to people and I just... I'm immensely glad I'm not that person anymore. So in answer to one of your questions, it is most definitely here to stay. And as for why and how... well, I'm still not completely sure. I know it has something to do with a complete stranger who fell off her roof and got locked out of her house, which resulted in her telling me that I was an egotistical jackass. I know it has something to do with the faith that she put in me – the fact that she told me that if I wanted to, I could change my reputation. But as for anything else..."

"What about that, Mitchie? Did you really change him?"

I laughed lightly, looking away from Monica and at Shane, who was looking right back at me. Grinning, I didn't take my eyes from him as I answered. "Apparently. I... don't think I did anything that other people wouldn't have done, to be honest. But what do I know? I said what I thought, and I meant every word of it. He was a jerk. But I do have faith in him. And I think... that's what everyone else lost. I mean, I can't be sure, but I think that after putting up with it for as long as Nate and Jason have, they just... they didn't think he ever would change. They didn't believe that he would. And if nobody else believes in you, then it's really hard to believe in yourself. It's hard to believe in yourself even if a million other people believe in you, so it must suck if it feels like nobody does. I... I didn't set out, to change Shane Grey. But if I had a part in changing him... I'm glad. I'm really glad."

---

"Okay, can you guys turn this way for me?" The photographer motioned with his hands, directing the boys to alter their positions so that he could get a good picture.

The interview had been fun. After the 'changing' questions, Monica had quickly changed the subject to less heavy going ones. Stuff about funny moments on tour – most of which I was involved in, which seeing as they'd been on tour for a while before I joined was a coincidence – and the upcoming shows in New York. It really was more like a conversation than a interview, and I hoped that she'd gotten enough to write an article. It didn't seem like there was much there at all. After taking down my address so that she could send me an advance copy, we'd been hurried to the photo session. I hung at the sides, watching Shane, Nate and Jason get ready and then stand in front of the white screen so that they could be snapped. Every so often, Shane would shoot me a smile and I'd grin right back. I knew he was checking to see that I wasn't getting bored, but I honestly wasn't. It was fun. Just like everything else on the tour. For Shane, it was just in a day's work. For me, it was a total new experience.

"Mitchie!" My name being called brought my attention back over to where the guys were standing, and I saw Shane moving away from them, towards me. His hand was extended and as soon as he was close enough, it grasped around my wrist and began pulling me out into the picture area.

"Shane? What are you... no!"

"Can we get some makeup over here please?" Shane called, not letting go of my wrist and ignoring my protests.

I didn't want my picture taken! I'd probably look like a dork and people might see them and... no. Just no. Shaking my head as Shane looked at me, I decided that I was going to stand my ground. I was. I was. I... oh no, not the pouty look. No. I continued shaking my head as Shane pouted at me, getting less resistant as the seconds went by.

"Why?" I cried, stomping my foot without thinking about it.

He laughed, stomping his own foot as he replied. "Because I said so! You've been just as much a part of this interview as we have, it'll look weird if you're quoted as saying all of these things and then there's just pictures of us."

"But - " I began, stomping my foot again. Wow. I was sounding more and more like a two-year-old.

"No. Please?" The pout was back, and I rolled my eyes. Both at the fact that he was pouting to get me to have my photo taken and the fact that I was so close to caving.

I looked around, noticing everyone in the room watching the exchange with amused expressions on their faces, and then back at Shane who was still watching me, his bottom lip extended slightly. I could totally kiss him right now. Wouldn't be expecting that one, would he? But we had an audience, so no.

Glancing down at my wrist which was still being held by Shane, I sighed and then stuck my tongue out at him. "I hate you."

"That's a yes?" His eyes sparkled as he realized his victory.

I shook my head, my hair flying in all directions as I did so. "No. That's an 'I hate you'." I did my best to keep my face in an annoyed expression, but as I looked up at him I couldn't help the small smile that spread over my lips. Which was kind of annoying in itself, but I wasn't going to beat myself up over it. Shane made me smile when I was annoyed, so what?

He was just about to say something back when a flash went off, temporarily blinding us both. What the hell was that? Hearing laughter from over where the camera was, I turned my head to see what had just blinded me, blinking the white spots away from my eyes as I did so.

Nate and Jason were standing by the photographer, looking down at the picture display. Ugh. Figures that they'd have something to do with it.

"I have to say Jason, that is a pretty good picture." Nate was saying, grinning at his band mate who smiled back.

Glancing back up at Shane (who was laughing as well) I painted a pout on my face, not dissimilar to the one that he'd just taunted me with. That was not fair. Three against one? So not fair. How was I supposed to win anything with them around?

"Hey! Don't look at me. I was just as unprepared. I'm currently seeing two of you." Shane stopped laughing, his hand still clasped around my wrist, as tight as ever. "It's just... you can no longer put up a fight. You've already had a picture taken; what harm is another one? Or two? Or... yeah, I won't push my luck." He trailed off upon my raised eyebrow. "Please?"

No. No. No. Say no. Use your willpower, Mitchie. Use every inch of willpower in your being. Just. Say. No.

One glance at Shane though, and my mouth uttered the words that I'd totally just told them not to. Stupid mouth, not listening to my brain. "Fine. Ugh. I hate you."

"You rock too, Mitch." He said, beckoning the waiting makeup artist over. She smiled at both of us, before dusting powder on my cheeks and preparing me for my unscheduled photo session. I couldn't believe that I'd given in so easily. How much did that suck? I couldn't even stand my ground anymore.

It took mere seconds to prepare me to make a fool of myself in front of the entire room and the makeup artist was literally just stepping out of the way of the camera before Shane grabbed my waist and pulled my feet from off the ground. Squealing (yeah, I squealed as much as I hate to admit such a thing) I looked down at Shane who was laughing, looking directly at me and not at the camera as it flashed numerous times in a row.

"That's great!" The photographer cried, not taking his eyes from the display screen at the back of the camera as the pictures he was snapping came up. "That's really great, you guys. Have fun – that's what being a rockstar is all about, right?"

I couldn't even correct him – I mean, it was popstar for crying out loud, did nobody realize this? - because at that precise moment in time, Shane Grey was spinning me around in his arms and I was slightly busy trying to get my feet back on the ground. They liked being on the ground. Though being in Shane's arms wasn't too shabby either. "Shane! Put me down!"

"What's that, Mitchie? Spin you around?" He yelled back, feigning ignorance. Or deafness. Or... both. "Faster?"

"No! Put me down! Right this instant!" I cried, attempting to kick him but failing because he'd obviously expected it and was holding my legs far enough away for me not to be able to reach him. Stupid Shane. "Shane! Stop it! Nate! Jason! Help me!"

Nate had walked forwards, so that he was just in the shot and was standing watching us, a smirk on his face and shaking his head at my request. Fat lot of good he was. Throwing a pleading look in Jason's direction, the other member of Connect 3 shrugged at me. "I can't beat Shane!" he cried, his hands in the air.

Wow. Connect 3 suck when it comes to helping a damsel in distress.

Suddenly, my leg connected with Shane's thigh and he yelped in pain, letting go of me and causing me to fall to the floor with a thud. Served him right, really. Not so sure why I was hurt in the process, but I'd take what I could get.

"Ugh," I said, propping myself up on my elbows and ignoring the laughs that were coming from around the studio. "You suck, Grey."

"You kicked me!" he replied, throwing his hands up in a defensive motion. "You would have been perfectly safe in my arms and you went and kicked me. So technically... it's your fault you're lying there right now."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to think of a smartass comment to reply with but coming up with nada. And he knew I had nothing; the annoying smirk on his face as he watched me search for a reply showed me that much. Jerk. "Jerk."

He towered over me, putting his hands on his hips and opening his mouth in a mock look of shock that I couldn't help but laugh at. Seriously, he looked so ridiculous. Holding his hand out to me, I took it and he pulled me up, the camera snapping away all the while. "Take that back," he said when I was standing on two feet again, his hand still locked in mine.

"Take what back?" I asked, fighting to keep an innocent expression on my face. It was hard work.

"You said I was a jerk! Take it back!" Shane was half-joking, I could tell. The gleam in his eye that always shone when he was joking was there. "Or I'll be forced to take action."

I would have folded my arms, had one of my hands not been otherwise occupied, but I arched my eyebrows and did my best to look unimpressed. "Oh, you'll be forced to take action, will you? Well, now I'm shaking."

"Don't push it, Torres."

"I'll push it all I want, Grey."

"You'll regret it."

I laughed. "I doubt it."

He let go of my hand suddenly, backing away from me as though I'd just turned into some alien creature. "Hm... I wonder..."

Rolling my eyes, I glanced around the room. Still, all attention was on us. Jason was watching and Nate was holding up a video camera, locked on the both of us. Sending him a 'what the hell?' look, he shrugged and focused it on me. They both had matching looks of amusement on their faces as though they knew what was going to come next. Turns out, they did.

In my moment of not paying attention to Shane, he'd managed to sneak around behind me and the first time I even realized that he wasn't in my line of sight was when his hands locked around my waist and he started tickling me.

"Oh my god! Get off me!" I screamed, squirming as I tried to get out of his grasp. His laughing came from right next to my ear and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. If I hadn't been being tickled at that moment, I would have probably just about melted. But I couldn't think about melting when a certain someone was irritating me beyond belief. "Shane! I hate you so freaking' much! Get. Off."

"Make me." His voice muttered in my ear, probably not heard by anyone else in the room. But I heard it. Oh yeah, I heard it. No melting, Mitchie. Do. Not. Melt.

"I'll kick you again," I replied, still wriggling in his arms. What was this, torture Mitchie day? Drive Mitchie crazy hour? "I mean it! I'll kick you again!"

Shane laughed again, and I shivered involuntarily at the feel of it on my ear. "I'll be ready for it this time."

Managing to turn around so that I was facing him (which solved the problem of me just about dying whenever he spoke or breathed into my ear) I stuck my tongue out at him, shutting my eyes tight as I did so. "I hate you. So much."

"Love you too, Mitch." He grinned down at me, letting go and using his now free hands to ruffle up my hair. Like I was a little puppy or something. Shane looked over at where the photographer was still taking pictures of us like there was no tomorrow; he'd come alive since Shane had started messing around. "Think we've given them enough pictures yet?"

I followed the direction of his gaze, looking back at him and shaking my head slightly. "Nope. Just a few more..."

This hadn't been the answer that Shane was expecting, obviously, which is why I managed to gain the element of surprise. Before he could react to what I'd said, I was jumping on his back and hooking my arms around his neck, almost causing him (and me, seeing as I was on his back) to fall over in the process. But he managed to correct his balance, laughing as he put his arms behind him and held my legs to make sure I didn't fall off.

"This is much better for me. I'm not being spun around or tickled..." I said, talking into his ear this time. Though I'm sure it didn't have the same effect on him as it did on me.

"Well I'm so happy for you," he replied, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smiling. I could just tell these things, I guess.

Looking over at the camera, I unhooked my arms and ruffled his hair, messing up the straight locks and pulling a face as it flashed again. I could most definitely get used to having my picture taken like this. It wasn't so bad once you'd started. And once you probably looked so weird that it didn't matter anymore. I mean, all that tickling and spinning must have messed my hair up just a little bit, right? So it was only fair that I got some of Shane looking more than a little strange, right? Moving my hands, I found his cheeks and squeezed them as another flash came our way.

"Wow, that was an attractive picture," Nate laughed from where he was filming.

Shane shook his head, trying to release my hands from his cheeks. "Shut up, Nate. What are you doing to my face?"

I grinned, leaning my face in between his neck and his shoulder. "Making it look deformed?"

"Well... don't?" He said, not putting up as much of an argument as I'd have expected him to.

Thinking this over for a few seconds, I moved my hands back to where they'd previously been – making sure that I wasn't going to fall off his back – and sighed. "Fine. I guess I won't mess up your face..."

"Much appreciated," Shane said, as the photographer stepped away from his camera and grinned at us all.

"This has been great, guys. Can we get Nate and Jason back in and get a few shots of all of you? Feel free to stay on his back, Mitchie. It's fun."

Nate laughed as he handed the camera to one of the makeup artists and bounded over to us. "Wow, Shane..."

"Don't finish that sentence, Nate. You'll regret it."

Jason joined us on the other side, making a laughing sound – which was odd for Jason. "What're you gonna do, Shane? Tickle us?"

I couldn't see Shane's face, but I could imagine that it wasn't totally amused. But that didn't stop me from laughing; tilting my head back and actually laughing. It was as though a completely new Mitchie Torres had been unleashed in front of the camera – one who was totally confident and crazy. Would that be the person that everyone in America thought I was? Was that the person I actually was, deep down?

"Ready?" The photographer called, holding his fingers up to count down. I guessed that this was the last one. The last picture for today. Make it worth it.

"Seriously Mitchie, stop making his face look deformed – oh. Wait. That's his real face." Nate said, his lips cracking into a smile as the guy lowered one finger.

Shane made a shocked sound, like he had when I'd called him a jerk, which just induced more laughter from Nate. "You will regret that Nate. You will pay..."

"Ahhh! No! Don't look at me, I'll turn to stone!" It was like a completely new side of Nate. Holding his arm up to his face, he backed away a few steps, pretending as though he couldn't bear to look at his bandmate. The guy lowered another finger.

I laughed as Shane gritted his teeth, putting my head beside his again.

"You sure you're not looking in a mirror, Nate?" He said, ignoring the fact that the camera was pointing straight at us still, the picture ready to imprint the next few seconds in time.

Nate laughed, shaking his head as the last finger began to go down. "Nope. It's you."

"I get it!" Jason cried, out of nowhere. "His real face! That's funny!"

"Smile," I whispered into Shane's ear, processing what everyone else had just said and laughing as I looked into the lens.

I don't know how he reacted, but I know that less than a second later the flash had erupted from the camera and the picture had been taken. And however it turned out, I was sure it would be amazing. Because a picture captures a moment in time; takes you back there whenever you see it. And I knew that even if we all looked like dorks – blinking or with our mouths open while talking – that this moment was one that I'd love going back to. Because it was awesome. To put it simply... it rocked.


	22. My State Of Mind

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Someone stop me from thinking about potential sequel ideas and make me write these last few chapters? My problem is that I get a moment of inspiration, map out the conversation in my head and if I don't write it down then it fades away and I forget it. But if I do write it down, I get all confused as to where I am and what's going on and I have to keep telling myself that that conversation hasn't happened yet and... yeah. I'll stop rambling and let you guys read this. I'M SO AMAZINGLY SORRY FOR MAKING YOU HATE ME AS YOU INEVITABLY WILL WHEN YOU GET TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER AND REALIZE THERE IS NO MORE. I'll warn you now, it's a cliffhanger. I don't know exactly when I'll get the chance to update again because my procrastinating has not paid off (does it ever?) and so I'm neck high in school work which has to come first, I'm afraid. But I'm hoping it'll be by the end of the week. Again, I'm sorry, but I mean it when I say that reviews will make me work faster. I hate disappointing people, so if you guys demand it by Sunday, I'll feel inclined to have it by or before Sunday. Because that's how I roll. I know that this song is by McFly, but I couldn't find a Jonas one that felt quite right to me. There were a bunch that probably could have worked, but I just wanted one that might spur her to do what she does! And if I don't stop now, this Author's Note will be almost as long as the actual chapter and that wouldn't rock. So... here goes. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME TOO MUCH._

_**Disclaimer:**__ If I had all the money in the world, I'd buy Camp Rock. But I quite obviously don't, so it still belongs to Disney. Nor do I own McFly's song, The Heart Never Lies, or Demi Lovato's song, Trainwreck._

_**Music: **__Until You're Mine – Demi Lovato_

"_**My state of mind has finally got the best of me"**_

Mitchie had disappeared.

Well... not disappeared. But we'd gotten off the bus in Pennsylvania, into the hall where tonight's concert was going to be held and since the sound check (we were now about an hour away from going on stage) Mitchie had been mysteriously missing. Of course, I was the only one slightly worried about this. Nate and Jason just shrugged and said that she was entitled to explore, wasn't she? Then they called me overprotective which is just... so not true. Curious, maybe. That's how I'd describe myself and my reaction. I was curious as to where she was.

"Mitch?" I called, making my way down a corridor backstage. I hadn't looked around myself – not that I ever really did; what was the point? I was here one night and gone the next – which meant that I had no idea where I was headed. I just hoped she'd be here somewhere. In amongst all the rooms. Seriously, it wasn't a very big place. How was there so many rooms? "Mitchie? You around here?"

A door that was slightly ajar caught my attention, as did the faint sound of piano playing coming from inside. Wow. I'm sure Mitchie had mentioned playing piano before, but she sounded really good. Really good. If I were actually standing inside the room, it might sound a whole lot better. But even from outside, it was good.

"Argh! No. No, no, no, no, no! Why is nothing sounding right?"

The all-too-familiar sounds of random notes being played cut off the playing and I could tell that she'd leaned her elbows against the keys in frustration. I couldn't see why though. Unlike my song (which was still getting me nowhere) hers actually sounded good. If that's what she was doing. The melody didn't strike me as something I'd heard before. And she'd been writing with Jason that day, right? So presumably this was the same song. Torn between the idea of knocking and running the risk of her giving up and not singing anymore, and just walking away and letting her carry on beating herself (and the piano) up, I hesitated before making my choice. Which involved me pushing the door open and peering into the room slowly.

"Need a little help there?" I asked, putting my hands into my pockets of my jeans – amazing feat, right? - and taking some steps further into the room.

Her head lifted at the sudden voice; her eyes widened in slight surprise and her elbows slipped from the keys, causing them to ring out across the room again. When she saw me, she relaxed a little and smiled. "I'm just having trouble writing. I can't seem to get it to go right."

Knowing exactly how she felt, I sauntered across the room to where she was sitting, leaning on the piano and facing her. "I know how that one feels. Believe me, I know how that one feels."

"It sucks, doesn't it?" Mitchie said, tilting her head to one side. I watched as she raised her left hand and brought it to rest on the lowest C note, playing a scale up to the C an octave higher. While it was such a simple thing to play, her fingers just looked incredibly graceful tracing each individual note. Transfixing, almost. "Did you... want the piano?"

I tore my gaze away from her fingers, looking back up to meet her eyes as I shook my head. "No. No, I came to see where you'd disappeared to. And the piano led me here."

"Oh." Her face colored slightly and she glanced away from me and back down at her hands. "Did you hear much?"

Immediately wondering what I'd have heard if I'd looked down this hallway before, I shook my head. Might as well be honest. "Not a lot. I got here a few seconds before you gave up. What I managed to hear sounded really good though..."

Mitchie blushed slightly darker as I stood up properly and walked around to where she was sitting, coming to a stop behind her. "Not really... I mean, it's nothing..." As she spoke, she made to take the lyrics that were resting on the music ledge out of my sight but I stopped her, wanting to read them. I wanted to see what had her tied up in knots. Maybe I could help. Maybe helping her would mean I broke free of my writing slump. I might find inspiration in finishing Mitchie's song. Weirder things have happened, right?

"Play it?" I asked, looking away from the lyrics that I had yet to read and looking at her. It might be better if I heard it, and it was worth a try. If my attempt to hear it failed, I'd resort to reading it.

"Um... how about you play something first? Just... so I can... prepare myself." Mitchie's hesitance to perform in front of me was slightly annoying and I felt guilty for feeling it. I didn't want to be annoyed because she was shy. That wasn't her fault. Instead of feeling annoyed, I had to help her realize that she was amazing. Surely she could see it. I mean, when she sung, didn't she hear how powerful her voice was? Didn't she figure out that when she was losing herself in playing the piano or guitar, that it was because she was so goddamn good?

I nodded after a few seconds. Sure, I could play something. As long as she kept good on her word and played something for me after it. "Move over then."

She slid up the small bench that was used as a piano seat, leaving enough room for me to sit down next to her. We were still close though. The piano stool wasn't made for two, but I didn't notice. I was too busy staring at the keys and trying to work out what to play. Nate was definitely the more experienced piano player of the three of us. Jason was the most experienced guitarist. And me? Well, I was the lead singer. I dabbled in both instruments, but was by no means the best at anything. The craziest one. The one with the most stage presence. That was my job. And I didn't mind it too much. Until times like this arose, of course, when I was faced with a piano and forced to recollect everything I'd written on a piano. Not much to choose from.

"I don't play piano that often, just so you know," I said, resting the fingers of my left hand on the keys that made up my starting chord. I only had a verse of this song, and it was one that I didn't think I'd ever really get around to finishing, but it was stupidly appropriate. And it didn't really matter what I played. I just had to play something.

Without waiting for a reply, I pressed down on the keys and let the music ring out in the room for a few seconds before carrying on. I wasn't at my most confident, playing piano and a song that I wasn't totally sure was very good anyway, but I kept going. That was how you learnt. That was how you gained confidence. You kept doing something and got better at it.

"_Some people laugh,_

_And some people cry,_

_Some people live,_

_And some people die,_

_Some people run,_

_Right into the fire,_

_And some people hide,_

_Their every desire_

_But we are the lovers,_

_If you don't believe me,_

_Then just look into my eyes,_

_Cause the heart never lies..."_

Mistakes had been made – I hit the wrong key after one line and it made a horrible contrasting sound, and I'd gone too fast at the start of the verse and so had to try and slow it down without being too obvious about slowing it down – but Mitchie didn't seem to mind. She was watching me, a smile on her face and a glassy look in her eyes.

"Shane... that was beautiful. That's really beautiful. I swear, you need to get this stuff out there. You need to show people the real you." Her sincerity was obvious; she really meant it when she said that I should perform this for people. And maybe – hopefully – one day I would. One day people would be coming to concerts to see not Connect 3, but Shane Grey, Nate Williams and Jason Reemer, performing songs that we'd written. Not a record label. Not some manufactured rubbish. But us.

I shrugged. "I could say the same to you. I haven't heard you sing a lot, but from what I've heard and from what you've said..."

"I don't..." Mitchie shook her head, her voice low. "I don't think I'm as good as you think I am. You have this image in your head and I'm afraid that I'll just... disappoint you. When you really hear me, I'll just disappoint you."

Reaching out and taking a hold of her hand, lifting it to the piano keys, I gave her what I hoped to be a reassuring smile. "Why not let me be the judge of that one?"

She sighed, aware that she couldn't really resist now that I'd kept to my side of the bargain. Was this how it was always going to be? I'd have to play in order to make her play? If that was the case, I'd play all the time. Just to hear her. "Okay. Okay. It's... it's not done though, okay? I haven't got much of a chorus, so I'll just have to... skip to what I have. And you have to promise not to... just... okay."

I watched her, my gaze alternating from her fingers to her face which was partly obscured by her long brown hair, as she began playing. It was upbeat, the melody working her fingers up and down the black and white piano keys.

"_You fled from medication 'cause it only causes pain_

_You won't go to the doctor he keeps callin' you insane_

_You're lost even when you're going the right way_

_You mean the world to me even though you might be crazy..."_

Trailing off, she kept playing, her eyes closing. I assumed this was part of the song that she hadn't quite written yet and scanned my mind (though scanning her face was distracting me just a little) for something that I could think of to go in the gap that she'd left. Before I could suggest any of the lame ideas that were popping into my mind, she started singing again, starting abruptly.

"_For so long my heart was breaking_

_But look, we're standing strong_

_The things you say make me fall harder each day_

_You're a trainwreck but I wouldn't love you if you changed..."_

I felt a stab as these words sunk in, unable to help myself from wondering who she was singing about. Whoever they were, they were really lucky. This song was... even unfinished, it was awesome. You could tell she'd taken the time on it. To make it perfect. But as jealous as I felt, I couldn't take my eyes from her as she moved into a bridge, slowing the tempo down.

"_We were so different_

_But opposites attract_

_So my hope kept growing_

_And I never looked back_

_You're one of a kind_

_No one can change this heart of mine_

_One more thing I'd thought I'd share with someone special_

_I'm falling like I've never fell before..."_

Taking a deep breath, she paused before singing anything else. Another gap to fill with words. Another space that she wanted to get rid of. But even the spaces couldn't diminish anything. As she opened her mouth to sing the last few lines, I noticed the shake in her hands and the crack in her voice. She was nervous? But how could she be nervous when she had this to perform? There was no need to be. It was amazing.

"_You're a trainwreck_

_But with you, I'm in love..."_

Mitchie held her fingers in the same position for a few seconds after her voice faded out, sliding them from the keys before standing up and turning away from me.

"Mitch?" I wrinkled my nose, confused. Why was she turning away from me? Did she honestly think that I wouldn't like it? The only fault that I could find with that song – besides the gaps that had yet to be given words – was the fact that it was written for someone else. Some lucky guy that she thought that highly of. "Mitchie, that was truly awesome. That song was... it was brilliant, Mitchie."

Still, she didn't turn to look at me.

I stood up, walking behind her and reaching out to spin her around to face me. Her hand was up to her mouth, biting her nails. She moved her gaze to meet mine and I saw real fear in her eyes. But what was there to be afraid of? "Mitchie, I mean it. You... you need to sing. You need to believe in yourself and your songs and your singing. You have one of the best voices I've heard."

No reply.

"Mitchie! What do you want me to say? How can I get you to believe it?"

Dropping her hand from her mouth, she shrugged, almost whispering when she spoke. "I don't... it's not... I just..."

"Proper sentences please, Mitchie," I said, aware of how many times I'd said her name in the past few minutes and not really bothered by it. I liked saying her name. It was a nice name.

"I can't think of what to put in the gaps," she muttered, not convincing me entirely. Why would she look so fearful at the idea of not knowing what to put in the gaps? That happened with all songs. Inspiration would come at a point and it would be perfect. You'd forget that you even had trouble with it at all.

I dropped my hands from her shoulders, putting them back in my pockets. Things were awkward again. I hated these moments. Where I couldn't trust myself to say anything because whatever I did say might give me away. Give away the fact that my thoughts kept wandering to the idea that she'd written it about someone. I wanted to know who. I wanted to know what sort of competition I had. I mean, she'd said that she'd never been in love on the night we met, right? So one week and four days ago, she probably didn't feel this way about said person. Sucked for me. If I'd acted when I first met her... when she first said that fall was her favorite season and I'd first realized that she was different and I liked her kind of different... maybe I wouldn't be in this position right now. "Well, you wrote it about someone, right? Maybe you should think about them. Heck, if they're not the type of person to be offended at the fact that you called them a trainwreck, then ask them if they have any ideas."

This caused her to look quickly away from me, her mouth opening to say something, then closing as she changed her mind and then opening again as she decided against her change of decision. Or she thought of something else to say. "Can I ask you something?"

I nodded, wordlessly. Anything. She could ask me anything and I'd tell her the truth.

"What would you say, if someone called you a trainwreck?" She asked, her eyes meeting mine and flickering away and back again as she waited for a response. Mitchie bit her lip, her front teeth making an imprint into the skin of her lips.

What would I say if someone called me a trainwreck? I smiled without thinking. "I figure someone practically already did. Trainwreck is better than jerk, right? And if someone called me it in the context of that song... I'd probably be flattered." If someone (Mitchie) had written that song for me, I'd be flattered. Of course I would. I'd be the happiest guy in the world, because it would mean she was in love with me. And I was in love with her. It would be perfect. But that was a major if. _If _she'd written that song for me. If. "I'd like it."

This seemed to be the right thing to say. Or... kind of. Because she took a deep breath, her gaze falling to our feet, the Converse shoes we were both wearing suddenly fascinating. "Really?"

"Yeah."

My heart started thudding abnormally loudly as my mind started to piece it all together. Dare I... could I hope? Dare I believe that she might have actually... no. But yes. But... no.

"Shane... I've been... I guess... can you..." she stammered, not looking up from the floor.

I stepped forward, as close as I could go without standing on her feet or making her feel too uncomfortable. "Mitchie... who did you write that song for?"

She gave an answer, her lips moving but the word inaudible. What? What did she say?

"What?" I asked. Please, God. Please.

"I said..." Mitchie lifted her head, watching me for a second before closing her eyes slowly and saying one word and one word only. "You."

"Shane!" Nate's voice called from the hallway, his figure appearing in the doorway before I had a chance to actually process what had just been said. "We need to go! We're on!"

I held up a hand, not moving my gaze from Mitchie, who still had her eyes closed while she waited for a reaction of some kind. "Hold on, Nate."

"Shane, we can't. We're on now."

"Nate! Hold on!" I said, turning around and yelling at him. I regretted it instantly – it wasn't his fault he was interrupting – but I couldn't take it back. "I'm coming. I'm... Mitchie."

There was no reaction from the beautiful girl standing opposite me. No reaction that is, until her eyes snapped open and she pushed past me quickly, as though nothing had happened. As though she hadn't just admitted that to me. As though she hadn't just confirmed everything I'd wanted since meeting her. Not that she knew that part.

She passed Nate and was out of the door in seconds. How did she move that fast? Shooting a look at Nate – hopefully one that told him what had just happened – I ran past him too, trying to catch up with her. Trying to tell her that I felt the same way. Trying, but failing. Mitchie was too damn fast and when I got to the stage area, I was grabbed and pushed onto the stage before I could find her.

Telling her I loved her would just have to wait. If I could wait. If both of us could wait.

---

"Great show guys!" Our guitarist, John, grinned at us when we finished the encore. Nate and Jason stopped to have a conversation, but I had a mission. I had to find Mitchie. I had to find Mitchie and let her know the truth.

The concert had been the longest hour of my life. I'd been searching for Mitchie almost the whole time and even when I wasn't trying to see her in the wings, I'd been thinking about her. I'm almost positive Nate and Jason noticed that I wasn't really into the concert, but neither of them said anything. Maybe they'd put two and two together and made four. I don't know. All I could think about was her reluctance to tell me.

Was that what she'd been going to say on her birthday? Before Jason called me into the bus and I'd been dumb and forgotten all about it?

And all those times that I'd been close to telling her how I felt and then... chickening out because I wasn't sure if she'd feel the same way were stupid. I could've told her! And not had all of this.

But I couldn't change my stupid, stupid actions in the past. Only my hopefully less stupid actions right now. Which involved me telling Mitchie... telling Mitchie... telling Mitchie everything I felt for her. I mean...

I LOVE HER. I WANT TO BE HER TRAINWRECK. I MIGHT BE CRAZY BUT IF SHE CAN LIVE WITH CRAZY... then I'll be her crazy.

So many things I had to say. So many things that I had to find her in order to say.

Sending a nod in Jeff's direction as he passed me on my way to the bus, I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Had to keep going. Mitchie hadn't shown up at all during the concert and I assumed that meant that she was on the bus. I hoped she was okay.

It took me mere seconds to reach the bus. It had started to rain outside (one of the many perks of fall weather, as much as I love it) and usually I'd have been worried about the state of my hair. But not today. Within milliseconds, I was climbing up the steps at full speed. "Mitchie! Are you here? Mitchie? Mi – Summer?"

In the middle of my search for Mitchie, I'd run into the last person that I ever expected to see. The last person I wanted to see. I stopped dead, staring at the blonde girl opposite me as though she would just disappear. Couldn't she just disappear?

"Hey, Shaney."

I took a step back; Mitchie obviously wasn't here. Not if Summer was hanging around. How had she even gotten onto the bus anyway? Big Rob was supposed to be ensuring that nobody got in or out. That was what we paid him for anyway. And up until now, he'd been pretty good at it. So how did this complete lunatic manage to find her way around him? Not that I really cared, because I had more important things on my mind. I had to find Mitchie. That was still priority number one. And I'd find her with or without Summer Eckhart tagging along behind me and trying to get me to date her. And then I'd tell her that it was her – only her – that I wanted and everything would be the best it's ever been.

"Your manager said I could wait here. When I explained the situation he was very understanding." I didn't like the look on this girl's face. She smirked, her arms folded in front of her and an eyebrow raised as though she knew something that I didn't. But, again, I didn't care what she might know. Last thing on my mind.

"I do not have time for this," I said, shaking my head and taking another step away from her. "Whatever it is you're here to say, I don't have time to hear it. I need to find - "

Summer laughed, stepping forward and making the gap between us less that it had been to start with in just one stride. "Mitchie? Oh. Yes. Your precious little Mitchie. Look, Shane. She isn't worth it. Think about it. You and me, we understand each other. She doesn't know what it's like to be us. She doesn't know the pain that we go through. Face it. You're a celebrity and she's just... well, a nobody. Those two worlds can't mix, Shane. It never works out."

My witty comebacks were all dried up, presumably because I was much too preoccupied with the task at hand. Get Summer the hell away from me and make Mitchie mine. "How would you know?"

"Because I know you. And I want you. And I think you want me too." Summer stepped closer, almost daring me to back away again. Which I had no problem with, and proceeded to do so.

"You have it wrong. I don't want you." I shook my head. What the hell was this girl's problem? When a guy said no, he meant no. Not 'come to my tour bus and we'll talk about it'. Not 'force yourself on me'. No. No meant no.

She laughed, the sound unusually high pitched and even more annoying when she was standing right next to me on the bus than when she was screeching into the phone. "But I think you do, Shane. And I think I know how to make you realize it..."

"What is that supposed to - " I began, the menacing look in her eye freaking me out just a little bit (okay, maybe a bit more than a little bit) and the urge to just run and get the heck out of there higher than ever. But before I could even finish my sentence... it all went wrong.

Firstly, Summer flew at me, at a speed that I think Olympic athletes would have strived to reach, and planted her lips on mine.

Secondly, I put my hands on her face, attempting to pull her off me and stop the hell that was the kiss she'd forced me into against my will. Seriously, it was like kissing... I don't know. Something gross that tasted like cherries. I don't even like cherries. Nothing like kissing Mitchie would have been, I reckoned.

The third thing that happened at the exact moment that these other two things occurred was the door to the bus opening. And a gasp that definitely wasn't Nate or Jason coming from the person who had opened it. No. No, no, no, no, no. Please no. I managed to wrench Summer's lips from my face, snapping my head almost instantly to the door and opening my mouth to protest. To... to say that it wasn't what it looked like. To be like every other guy in every teen movie ever made who had to get out of this situation. But I really meant it. I DIDN'T KISS HER!

But the only thing I saw was the flash of Mitchie's stricken expression and then she was gone. Running. Running. Running away from me.


	23. Put My Faith In You

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ I'm still not done all my work, but I'm taking a breather and providing you with this. Later than I promised too. God, I hate GCSE year. Warning: swearing ahead. Bad language. Because I tried to put myself in Mitchie's position and knew that I'd probably lose it like she does too, so... yeah, just a warning. Hopefully that won't put anyone off reading it though! And I'm glad you guys don't hate me too much. Just... I needed to add some major drama. Life can't be easy! But I promise, it will all work out. After this, there are four more chapters so you know you won't have to wait too long. I hope you all stick it out though! I'm trying not to get ahead of myself and skip the angst too quickly. As long as I stick to my plan... you guys will hate me even more, but it should be paced. Good things come to those who wait! I don't really... love this chapter. But that might just be because of what it made me do. I hate writing this part, I really do._

_**Disclaimer:**__ If I owned Camp Rock this would not be how it went! It's causing me too much heartache. But I suppose to make things interesting... sigh. Hopefully the next few chapters don't kill me. BUT THAT ISN'T THE POINT. I DON'T OWN CAMP ROCK._

_**Music: **__For A Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic – Paramore_

"_**I put my faith in you, so much faith, and then you just threw it away"**_

Fuck. Screw the world. Why? Why the hell did I even get my hopes up? Why did I go back to the bus? Why didn't I do what I'd been considering all through the concert and just leave? Why did I trust him to handle my heart with care? I mean, I'd basically told him I loved him, hadn't I? I'd admitted to writing a song about him that contained the lyrics 'with you I'm in love'. There was really not much doubt as to what that meant.

I'd spent the concert sitting on the pavement outside the venue, going over it all in my mind. I just... it felt right. Telling him. It felt right for about two seconds and then Nate interrupted and... I lost it. I became convinced that he was going to let me down easily and that things would just be awkward forevermore, so I ran away. And I heard him being pushed on stage and knew that I had about an hour to sort things out in my head and I fully seized that opportunity. There was nobody outside the hall (everyone who was everyone was inside, obviously) and so I had my thoughts to myself. Even when it started raining, I stayed sitting there. I like the rain.

And I realized, just as I heard the doors open and the fans begin to stream out, that I didn't care. I realized that I was probably being pessimistic. He'd come to seek me, after all. He'd run after me to try and tell me... to tell me what? So I'd stood up and navigated my way through the crowd to try and finish what I'd started. A sudden spurt of confidence had led me on and I'd wanted – needed – to hear what he had to say. Because going over it in my mind, it seemed as though it wouldn't be quite as bad as I anticipated it would be.

And then... then I'd seen _that. _And a rush of emotions fell on top of me, uncontrollably cascading down onto me and I couldn't control them. I wanted to cry and scream and break down and hit him at the same time. Only an hour after I'd... practically poured my soul out to him, he was kissing some skanky little pop wannabe who had no talent whatsoever apart from being beautiful? There was nothing I could do apart from run. Running seemed a lot better than any of my alternatives; hitting him, screaming, crying... I didn't want him to see me like that.

"Mitchie!" I recognised his voice, even in my distressed state. Even though the rain was pounding in my ear and my thoughts were drowning out most of the sound around me anyway, his voice stood out amongst all.

I had two options. I could carry on running God knows where in the rain and make him feel guilty for causing me to do this. Or I could stop and talk to him and make him feel guilty about it anyway. Because he kissed her. He _kissed_ her. Right after I'd told him that I'd written him a song, he kissed someone else.

He caught up with me though, eliminating my first option. I felt his hand clasp around my wrist, pulling me around to face him. My hair was stuck to my face, my makeup running down my face and my clothes were sticking to my body in a way unflattering way. It was also freezing, but to be honest, I wasn't really thinking about the cold.

"Mitchie!" He said again and I looked up at him (though my judgement told me not to) finding him staring back at me, his dark eyes boring into mine. His hair was plastered to his face too, and though it was the last thing I _wanted _to be thinking about, I couldn't help but notice how his clothes stuck to his body. If I hadn't been so incredibly hurt and mad at him, it might have been kinda hot.

"What?" I asked, after the silence had spread between us for an extended amount of time. As much as it nearly killed me, I managed to wipe all the hurt from my face and look at him with nothing but a blank expression. "Don't you have something better to do? Or... someone?"

Shane shook his head, but it was hard to see his expression through the rain. It was coming down harder than ever. The rain to match my mood. Rain, pain... "You have it all wrong, Mitch."

"Really?" The hurt was leaving very quickly and anger was taking over. I wasn't sure why I was so angry, but all I knew was that it sucked. He sucked. Wrenching my wrist from his grasp and taking a few steps back – away from him – I pushed my hair out of my face as best as I could. "Because it didn't look like I had anything wrong. It looked to me like you were kissing her."

"Well... I was kissing her. I mean... she was kissing me. I mean... I didn't... she was kissing me. I wasn't kissing her."

It was almost pathetic, really. If this was supposed to make me believe anything he said... "Is there a difference? Because I'm not really seeing one."

"Mitchie..." Shane copied my action of pushing his hair from his face and I could see the desperate look on his face for a fraction of a second before rain got into my eyes again. "There's totally a difference. I didn't... hear me out?"

I folded my arms. "Hear you out? What, exactly, are you going to say? That your lips 'accidentally' fell onto hers? That she had something on her mouth and you decided to remove it with your own? What excuse could you possibly have?"

"Summer called me the other day. She wanted me to pretend to be with her as some sort of publicity stunt. I said no, but she obviously didn't take that as an answer. I ran out of the show looking for you, Mitchie! I was looking for you because I needed to talk to you. I needed to tell you... everything. And then I went onto the bus because I thought you might be there and you weren't, but she was. I didn't want that to happen. I wanted her to leave. I told her to leave. But she just... she threw herself on me right at the second that you walked in. If you'd been a second later, you'd have seen something totally different."

"I bet I would." I scoffed, the rain obstructing my view again. It was dark around us. I wondered if anybody could hear; if all the concert-goers had gone home or if they could hear this whole scene. I looked around, not seeing anybody in the immediate area. But it was dark. I might have been wrong. Did I care anyway? I didn't care who saw me. Not anymore.

"You would have seen me pushing her away! You'd have seen me telling her to go the hell away!" Shane stepped forward, getting louder as he spoke.

Laughing suddenly – at the pure ridiculousness of it all – I spun around on the spot. I must have looked like a total maniac, laughing at something that was so not funny, but I honestly did not care. I didn't give a toss. "You know what? Why do I even care? Why should I even care? You didn't tell me you liked me. You didn't say anything when I told you that song was written about you. We weren't dating. We aren't dating. For all I know, she's been your girlfriend for months. Why do I give a fuck? It's not like you care about me."

"What do you mean I don't care about you?" Shane yelled, the sudden ferocity in his voice taking me slightly by surprise. "Of course I fucking care about you, Mitchie! I stood up for you, didn't I? When that girl at school was being a total bitch, I stepped in and told her where to go. I wanted you on this tour! I care about you; how can you think that I don't?"

"Oh!" I threw my arms up in the air again, laughing sarcastically. "Oh! Well if you invited me on tour then that must mean you care about me! I'm sorry, I forgot about that. Let's be best friends and braid each other's hair now! Forget that you just totally broke my heart into a million little pieces, that's totally unimportant!"

Shane let out a frustrated groan, stepping forward again. I took a step back, keeping the distance between us. "I'm trying to explain! I'm _Shane Grey_, Mitchie. _Everyone _wants to kiss me. You can't - "

"_EVERYONE WANTS TO KISS YOU?_" I cried, my voice verging on a scream. "Are you kidding me? Are you joking? GET OVER YOURSELF AND ADMIT THAT YOU DID SOMETHING WRONG. For once, in your life, admit that _you _made a mistake. _You _made me fall for you. _You_ didn't say anything before the concert. _You _got caught kissing her. It was all _you. _So stop using your name as an excuse for abso-fucking-lutely everything! Just because you're _Shane Grey _doesn't mean you're a goddamn saint!"

This seemed to stun him into silence, making him quiet for a few seconds. When he did reply, he spoke quietly, suddenly changing the mood. "Mitchie..."

Lifting my hand to wipe the rain out of my face, I realized I'd been crying. When had I started crying? How long had I been unable to distinguish the difference between my tears and the rain? "Don't, Shane. Just... don't."

"Please..." he said, stepping forward. His voice cracked, which nearly broke my heart all over again, and I didn't bother to step away from him. Not this time. I was too tired.

I shook my head, not looking at him. I couldn't look at him. Not ever again. "I said, don't. I can't... I can't believe I fell for you. I fell head over heels. Because I was sure that you'd changed. I was totally... totally sure that you were a better person..."

"I am a better person - " Shane interjected, his hands reaching out to grasp my own.

I ignored him. "I was stupid. I am stupid. God, how could I be so goddamn stupid? You never changed. You never became a better person. You just thought you did. It was so easy to pretend to be a better person. But when it comes down to it, you'll still use your pop star name to try and get you out of things. You'll still use the fact that you're _Shane _fucking _Grey _to get you out of sticky situations and you expect everybody to accept that. Well no. No."

"I have changed!" Shane said, his voice cracking all the more. "You changed me. You made me this better person. Everyone sees it. You can't - "

Shaking my head all the more, I couldn't stop myself from sobbing. Great. Now he knew full well I was crying. I kept my eyes closed, my head down. If I opened my eyes I'd be able to see our interlocked hands. God. "I didn't change you, Shane. I don't... I don't know. I can't be here..."

This was one thing I knew. One thing that I could see in amongst all the haze around me. I couldn't stay. If I tried to imagine getting back on this bus and going to New York with Connect 3, my stomach twisted into all kinds of knots. It wouldn't be the same. I couldn't do it. Not now.

"Mitchie... please..." His desperate tone made me look up at him and I instantly regretted it. His hair was worse – sticking to his face – and I couldn't be sure, but he might have been crying. Oh God, he was crying.

I sobbed again, still shaking my head. "I need to go home. This isn't working. Who were we kidding? It was never going to work."

"Mitchie, don't..."

I couldn't change my mind though. I couldn't. Pulling my arm out of his grasp, I took one last look at his face. Of course, I'd see it again. On TV, in magazines... but probably never up close. He'd go back to that popstar and she'd comfort him and I'd be forgotten. He didn't like me. He still hadn't said anything in response to my song. I'd be forgotten. Just like that.

"Just... don't. Don't follow me. Just leave me alone. I'll go back home, you'll go back to performing. Two worlds collided and they were never supposed to. I wasn't supposed to meet you. It was never going to work." I backed away slowly, not caring that all my stuff was on the bus. Not caring that I was soaked to the skin. Not caring that my home was in another state, miles away. "Just... we'll both be better off."

I knew he was about to reply. But at that very moment, a flash went off and a lone member of the paparazzi jumped out from where he'd been hiding. I wondered how much he'd heard for a second, before I realized that this was always how it went. Someone always interrupted. They always got in the way. Fate, intervening.

"Shane! Mitchie! What's going on?"

"Mitchie, don't do this." Shane was doing a remarkable job of not punching this guy's lights out. But I couldn't think about this.

I forced a smile, though I don't know how much he could see through the rain. "I have to, Shane. I'm mad at you. You hurt me. And whenever we try to talk it out, someone always interrupts. It's not meant to be, Shane. Fate is against us. And you can't fight fate."

"I want to fight it," he said, and it was only later that the meaning of these words actually sunk in. At the moment though, I couldn't think of anything aside from the fact that this scenario was going to be all over the tabloids. And the fact that I couldn't be there.

Slackening my face into a blank look, I shrugged. "Go back to your popstar girlfriend. I'm sure that after one kiss from her, I'll just be some girl you used to know."

"That's not - "

I didn't want to talk anymore. I physically couldn't talk anymore. I was shivering, cold and if I said anything else, I might actually break down. It was too much. What was going on? A few hours ago, everything had been so good. Why was I leaving? Why were we fighting? Why did he kiss her?

"Shane! Is this a lovers tiff, Shane? Do you have anything to say?" The photographer was buzzing around like an annoying fly I knew Shane wanted to just swat, but he didn't move his eyes from me. As many times as I swore that I'd not look at him again, my eyes kept finding his face. It was taking all I had to tear them away from his soaking wet form. But I had to keep doing it. I couldn't get attached.

My perfect opportunity came when another question was fired from the paparazzi guy, and Shane turned to him. I didn't stick around to hear what he said. All I knew was that Shane's gaze wasn't forcing me to root myself to the spot. I could run without being noticed. I could get a head start. I could escape. Clear my head.

One last look: Shane Grey, standing in the rain, his hair flattened to his head, his shirt stuck to his chest. One last look and then I was gone.

It didn't take me too long to find a bus station. I happened upon it totally accidentally, but I didn't really mind that. It was a huge relief, actually. Running all the way to Massachusetts didn't really appeal to me. But (and it appeared that everything was all coinciding to make my leaving as perfect as it could possibly be) there was a bus leaving for Boston within ten minutes of me getting there, and I was on it before I could change my mind. Not that I would've.

I got some weird looks from people already on the bus; partly because I was soaking wet and partly because they recognised me as the girl who'd been seen with Shane Grey in the days previously. Little did they know I wasn't that girl. Not anymore. They all thought the wrong thing about me. Just like I'd thought the wrong thing about Shane. I ignored them all, sitting down in a solitary seat with nobody in the instant vicinity, and pulled out my cell phone. The one thing I'd actually had with me. All my clothes, my songs, my... everything else was on the bus. Ugh. How was I going to get all that back?

Already I had five missed calls, four of them from Shane himself and one from Nate. Deleting each one from my voicemail without listening to them, I dialled the one number that I knew I could always dial. For anything.

"Mitchie?" Caitlin's voice was like a life raft. Ugh, it sounded so amazingly good.

"Has Nate already called you?" I asked, my voice giving way as soon as I opened my mouth to speak. She and Nate had gotten close, but I couldn't be sure that he'd have contacted her. Though I guess it would be logical. I wouldn't blame him.

She hesitated, telling me all I had to know. "Yeah... he called about five minutes ago. I... what happened, Mitchie? He said he didn't really know much. Only that he found Shane standing in the rain, yelling for you. All he's managed to get out of him so far is that he's made the biggest mistake ever... did it have anything to do with Summer Eckheart? They found her on the bus and kicked her out..."

Hearing her name made me tense up. It probably always would. She was prettier than me. And probably a better kisser than I ever would be. She was more composed. More... perfect. My face hardened. I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't want to know. He hurt me. I was glad he was a mess. "Good. On all counts. I'm glad she's kicked out. I'm glad he's a mess. I'm glad."

"You don't mean that, Mitchie..."

I laughed dryly. "How the hell would you know, Caitlin? You weren't the one with your heart wrung out and left to bleed in the rain. You weren't the one who had to listen to his pathetic excuses about how he was Shane goddamn Grey and that he could get away with murder because of it. You weren't the one who had the paparazzi hounding you at one of the moments in your life where you were hurting the most. I do mean it, Cait. I fucking do."

"Mitchie..."

My moods were up and down and all over the place. I couldn't control them. One minute I was upset, the next I was cursing like a sailor. "Can you pick me up in Boston? At the bus station? I'm sorry to drag you out, but - "

"I'll be there, Mitchie. But only if you're sure that that's what you want."

I knew what she was trying to do. This was Caitlin's way of telling me that she thought I should go back and fix it all. But I couldn't. How could I fix what I wasn't sure how it got broken in the first place? I didn't know when the cracks began to appear. I didn't know where the source of the problem was. All I could think was that it wasn't working. I couldn't go back and try and fix things. I just couldn't. "I am."

Caitlin sighed; it hadn't been the answer she'd wanted to hear. But, like the best friend she is, she relented pretty easily. "I'll be there."

"Thank you," I said, unable to stop the catch in my throat as I tried to hold back my tears.

"It's no problem. It'll be okay, Mitchie." She sounded so reassuring. It hurt. That she could sound so reassuring and full of hope when I felt like there was none. How was she so optimistic?

It wasn't worth arguing over though, and so I just nodded. "Yeah. I hope so. I'm coming home, Cait."

"I'll meet you at the bus station. Bye."

I didn't say goodbye in response. Flicking my phone shut, I turned it off; shutting out the incoming calls from anybody else. I didn't want to speak to anybody else. I _couldn't _speak to anybody else.

Ignoring the looks that I was getting from some of the other passengers, I took a shaky breath as the doors closed and the bus began to roll forwards. This was really it. I hadn't envisioned this being the end to my tour when I'd started on it. How many days ago was that? A week ago? A week ago. Ugh. A week ago, I wouldn't have imagined this being the end. Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have even imagined meeting Shane Grey possible. Things change. And they change fast.

I leant my head against the cold glass of the window, heaving a sigh. My iPod was on the bus. No music. For hours. Just me and my thoughts and my mind. Alone.

One is the loneliest number, right?

I was going home. Home.


	24. Picking Up The Pieces

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Bloody hell. At this rate I'll hit 500 reviews. If I hit 500 reviews before the last chapter, I'll... I don't know. I'll do whatever. I know I say it all the time, but I really am blown away by the response that you guys have given me. Which is why I'm gonna try and make these last few chapters (I know, I don't want it to end) as good as they possibly can be. And then, if there's enough demand, write a sequel. If I can think of any ideas that I like. Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter – I hate not having the time to reply to them all (and some of them are anonymous ones that I can't reply to, unfortunately) but know that I appreciate each and every one and I try to take into account everything that you guys say to me. No lie, I have found myself waking up in the middle of the night with inspiration for you all, just to make this better. That's how dedicated to this story I am. But here you guys go: the 24__th__ chapter out of 27. And into the aftermath we dive..._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Unless Camp Rock is being sold at a very, very low price (as in, so low I can afford it with my very poor status) I don't think I stand a chance of getting it._

_**Music: **__Rewind – Paolo Nutini_

"_**Picking up the pieces of the wreck you went and left"**_

"Mitchie's gone. Where has Mitchie gone? Why has Mitchie gone?" It was all I could think of to say.

When Nate found me, moments away from killing (possibly an exaggeration – I would've just hurt him) that paparazzi guy who had made me turn away from Mitchie for a second and lose her as a result, that was all I could say to him.

When he stood in front of me, yelling for me to tell him what exactly had happened, that was all I could utter.

When Jeff and Jason ran over to where we were making a lot of noise, that was all I could say by way of an explanation. My brain wouldn't function in any other way.

I'd lost her. She was in my grasp for an hour or two and she'd slipped through my fingers and out into the rainy night. The rain had washed her from my fingers and I wasn't quick enough to catch her. I wasn't quick enough.

It was like a film replay running through my mind continuously. The image of her face when she was in the doorway, having stumbled in upon one of the most cliché scenes in the book. The way she looked at me blankly, void of all emotion on her face but in her eyes... she couldn't rid the sheer hurt from her eyes. The words that had left her lips, each one of them cutting me like a knife but each one of them making sense. I'd done that to her. I'd caused that hurt. I'd been a total jackass and just... I hadn't handled it. I'd fucked it up and I couldn't pretend that I hadn't.

"Shane! We need to go inside! You'll get sick!" Jeff yelled, snapping his fingers in front of my face and putting his hands on my shoulders, steering me into the direction of the bus.

I'll get sick? I didn't care. I could cough up my lungs, for all I cared. Mitchie was gone. Where had Mitchie gone?

"What the hell happened?" Nate was yelling, but I don't know who he expected to answer. The photographer guy had run off, probably to spread the word. Shane Grey and the mysterious Mitchie had been seen fighting, and it had ended in tears. Literally. And Jason and Jeff didn't know anything. The only two people who knew what had just happened were... well. I was here. And Mitchie was... oh God. Where was she?

Spinning around, I broke away from Jeff's grasp. "Mitchie! Where did she go? We have to find her and make sure she's okay! She's just - "

"Oh no you don't," Jeff said, grabbing a hold of me again and pushing me to the bus, which was steps away now. How had we gotten here so quickly? When I was running after Mitchie, it had felt like I'd gone really far away. When I was trying to... when we had the argument, it felt like we were the only people for miles.

I was too cold and weak to fight back, and let my manager and Jason push me onto the bus. Up the steps. Mitchie. "Mitchie..."

"Shaney!"

The voice from the middle of the room made my head snap up, and I swear I saw red. That bitch was still here? What right did she have to be here?

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" I yelled, taking everybody by surprise. As if the other three hadn't been surprised enough to see this complete stranger sitting on the tour bus, calling me 'Shaney' and thinking that she had some sort of right to be there. Which, might I point out, she didn't. She had just single-handedly ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me. And yet she still had the... the audacity to stand in front of me and pretend that she was Little Miss Innocent?

"Sh-Shane?" She wasn't totally stupid then. Summer Eckheart might have been a manipulative bitch, but at least she could tell when I was totally about to lose it. If I didn't have a little bit of self control and some morals, she would've been sporting a black eye for the rest of her photo shoots this month.

"Leave me. Leave me alone. You... you... you just... you just ruined my life. And I don't give a fuck whether you meant to or not, but you did. So just leave me alone, never talk to me again, never say a bad word about Mitchie Torres for as long as you may live, learn how to take NO FOR AN ANSWER and maybe I won't tell the tabloids that you're a slut who needs a good slap. If I was at your level, I might have already done that. But I'm not. I'm not." I took a step forward, not caring that I was dripping all over the place. Not caring that my manager and my two bandmates were standing behind me, their mouths open at the insanity of the situation. Not caring that this girl looked like she was about to cry. I only cared about one thing, and unfortunately, that one thing hated my guts right now. "So do the world a favor and learn that being a bitch will get you nowhere. Especially in Shane Grey's life. Mitchie is a better person than you ever will be, and thanks to you, her heart is torn into a million pieces. And you know what? Mine is out there with it. Thanks, Summer. Thanks a fucking lot. I hope you're happy."

I gave her one last scathing look and swept past her, picking up my cell phone from the table in one swoop and into the room that used to be mine. The room that I'd given up so that Mitchie could sleep in it. Her clothes were on the floor. Her iPod was on the bed, the headphones strewn across the pillow. It smelled of her. The room had been occupied by Michaela Marie Torres for only a week, but it was more hers than it was mine. Or, that's what it felt like anyway.

Slamming the door with considerable force behind me, I stood in the middle of the floor for a few seconds, listening to the silence. It's always odd, listening to silence. It's like... something is supposed to be there, but it isn't. Something's missing. And it was.

Mitchie was missing. Where was she? Was she okay?

I looked down at the phone in my trembling hands, flipping it open and trying not to dial the wrong number with my shaking hands. The cold was settling in. The numb was settling in. I couldn't feel the ends of my fingers. They were leaving spots of water on the keys.

"Hi, you've reached Mitchie... it's 2008 – you know what to do after the beep."

It was such a Mitchie voicemail message, but even that couldn't bring a smile to my face. She wasn't answering. Hanging up, I tried again, praying for her to pick up. Please, pick up.

"Hi, you've reached - "

I hung up again. What use was voicemail? I needed to speak to her. In person. I pressed redial, shaking as I held the handset up to my ear. Please, pick up.

"Hi, you've - "

"No!" I muttered fiercely, hanging up again and instantly hitting redial. I didn't know what I say when – or if – she picked up, but I didn't care. Something. Anything. Anything that might improve the situation even a little. Things couldn't get much worse anyway.

"Hi, you've reached Mitchie... it's 2008 – you know what to do after the beep."

I let the beep ring out, just listening to her cheerful recorded voice. It sounded so good. Only when the beep had been and gone, did I realize that it was recording and so far it had me. Breathing. Listening to her voice play through my ears over and over... I had to say something. Otherwise when she listened to it, it would just sound like I was some pervert or something. I don't know. I... didn't know anything.

"Mitch... Mitchie, please... I'm sorry. Just let me explain. You're right. You're so... I'm sorry. Please come back, or let me know you're okay. I like you, Mitchie. Like... like, like. I would say love, because I'm sure that's what this is, but I... right now it seems too much. After all of that... I want to be with you, Mitchie. Please. Please..." The beep cut me off. Ugh. There was so much more I wanted to say to her. So much more I had left to say to try and fix it.

The phone slipped from the grasp of my numb fingers, clattering on the floor. I didn't even look down to see whether it was broken. What did it matter? What did anything matter? Call it melodramatic, but honestly... I couldn't imagine waking up tomorrow on this bus without her.

Sinking to the floor, I knelt down and cradled my head in my hands. No.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." I shook my head, standing up slowly as I repeated the one word, over and over. Over. And over. Louder and louder. "No. No. NO! NO! NO, NO, NO, NO!" As my voice got louder and more intense, I screwed my eyes shut as tight as they would go and before I had time to react and stop myself, my fist had connected with the wall and searing pain was shooting through my arm. But it wasn't terrible. It wasn't pain that I couldn't handle.

"Shane!" Nate's voice came from the door, and he tried the handle and finding it unlocked, flung it open. "Shane! What the hell happened and why are you punching walls?"

I ignored him, my eyes still shut and my fist still throbbing. But it wasn't the bad kind of throbbing. It was pain to let me know that I could still feel. Physically, I could still feel. Emotionally... I could definitely still feel. But I didn't want to think about emotions. It would hurt too much. It would hurt more than punching a wall. It would hurt more than punching a wall over and over...

"Shane. What happened?"

"Why has Mitchie gone?"

"Where has Mitchie gone?"

Questions. Thrown at me from all directions (Jeff and Jason were now loitering around) and I honestly didn't know how to answer them. How could I even begin to explain what had occurred? How could I even begin to retell the story, when just thinking about it was nearly killing me? Or that's what it felt like.

I opened my eyes, not really taking in the scene in front of me. I wondered what they were seeing when they looked at me. Not just a soaking wet nineteen-year-old who happened to be one of the biggest celebrities in the country, but what could they really see? Did I look blank? Did I look like I was hurting? Did I look different at all? Or was I like Mitchie had said? Did I really just use my name to try and get out of things? Had I changed, or was I fooling myself? Was I trying really hard to see myself in a different light and consequently kidded myself into thinking that I was this better person?

"Shane..?" Nate looked hesitant as he took a step towards me. "What happened?"

His words rung in my ear, over and over. What happened? What happened? What happened? Unable to take it, I balled my fists up and put them to my head, unleashing my utter frustrations in a roar. I didn't even care what I looked like, or how mentally unstable it must have looked to the people in front of me, who still were in the dark about what happened.

"Shane?" Jason sounded almost scared, his eyes wide as he watched me from his place in the doorway.

Turning away from them – if only to avoid the looks of confusion and sympathy written on their faces – I shook my head, the water still running into my eyes. "I made the biggest mistake of my life, that's what happened. I fucked up, that's what happened. And now Mitchie is God knows where and I can't get a hold of her. She's not answering her phone. I didn't mean for this to happen. How did this happen?"

It was not an explanation, but Nate jumped into action anyway. Even with my back to him, I could hear him pulling out his cell phone and dialling a number. Presumably whoever he was calling (and I had a feeling I knew exactly who) didn't answer for him either, and he barked a message into the handset like I had. "Mitchie! It's Nate. Are you okay? Come back. Whatever happened, we can fix it. Just... please. We're all worried. Shane especially."

Fix it.

We can't fix it.

I want to fix it. But there's no way. She's gone.

"She's gone." I muttered, resisting the urge to punch something again. This time it might not be a wall. It might be a person. And I really didn't want to end up punching Nate or Jason for doing absolutely nothing wrong. If I should cause bodily harm anyone, it should be myself. Which was impossible. I doubted I could hurt much more than I was.

Nobody moved for a few minutes. Or... I didn't think they did. But when I managed to compose myself enough to actually turn around, I saw that I'd been left alone. They'd decided that they were getting no information from me and so had just left? Or were they like everyone else? Going to ditch me when I needed them the most?

I could barely think anything rational. One minute I hated myself and the next I hated everyone else. What the hell was going on? How had everything gone from so... great to so crap in such a short amount of time?

My cell phone was still lying on the floor, and I crouched down to pick it up in my cold fingers. I was still wet with rain. My eyes were still dangerously close to filling up. I couldn't really comprehend exactly how confused I was about it all. There was a dull pain in my body, but not one that a prescription from a doctor could cure. Emotional pain.

I looked down at the phone in my hands. The display said nothing; no new texts, no missed calls. The display was mocking me with it's lack of information. Mitchie.

Mitchie.

Oh my God, where was Mitchie?

If anything happened to her and it was because she ran away from me...

In one swift, fluid movement I was standing upright, twisting around on the ball of my foot and flinging the cell phone at the wall of the bus with as much force as I could muster. "ARGHHH!"

It didn't stand a chance.

I never knew that a phone could splinter into pieces, but that's exactly what mine did. Flew from my hand and collided with the wall. Didn't see it coming, couldn't stop it when it did.

Boy, did I know how that felt.

In the living area, I could hear Nate on the phone. It wasn't to Mitchie, though. I could hear her name being mentioned and unless they were speaking in third person – which would have been way too weird – it wasn't her. Caitlin, probably. If he wanted to find out anything, he'd probably call her best friend. That's what I'd have done. If I was up to speaking to anyone. And if I hadn't just thrown my phone against the wall.

"Why didn't I tell her?" I asked the empty room, my head in my hands. "Why did I sound so lame? Why? Why? Why?"

Sinking down onto the bed, I kept my head in my hands. What could I do? I had to fix it. I had to get her back. I had to show her that I wasn't... that I had changed. That she meant more to me than anything else in the world. There was no way I was going to let her walk out of my life that easily. I just couldn't.

But she wouldn't listen. She said we couldn't fight fate. Maybe she was right; maybe we would never have worked out. Maybe I had to let her go. Maybe...

Maybe I really did screw it up, past all chance of ever fixing it. Maybe there was no hope. Maybe I just had to... let go.

Yeah, right. Like that'll be an easy feat. You couldn't just... let go of someone who had done so much for you without even realising it. I couldn't just... let to go Mitchie Torres.

Though it looked like she'd just let go of me.

And could I really blame her?


	25. Wish You Were

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Here we go, 25__th__ chapter. This is short and not much happens at all, but it's the aftermath and skips ahead a few days to move things on a little. I'm hoping to have the final one done and dusted before I go away for Christmas, but if that doesn't happen... well. I have a while and only two more chapters to write, so even though the last one is sure to be a whopper, I'm sure I'll manage. Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapters (even the nit-picky ones ;D) because they really make me think about what I'm writing and try to fix any mistakes I might've made in the details (like I definitely did in the 23__rd__ one... because I didn't think about the little details BUT THANK YOU FOR POINTING IT OUT, BECAUSE NOW I'M GOING TO PROOF READ A MILLION TIMES, JUST TO MAKE SURE I GET EVERYTHING :D). And, of course, they make me write more when I should be finishing coursework. Not so sure my Geography teacher will be thrilled, but oh well. I can't help that..._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Sigh. If I owned Camp Rock... well, there are a million possibilities. Sadly, I don't so... c'est la vie?_

_**Music: **__Wish You Were – Kate Voegele_

"_**I'm still in love with who I wish you were"**_

"I don't want to talk about it!" I cried, pulling my covers over my head and obscuring myself from the glare that a certain Caitlin Joanne Gellar was shooting my way. I don't think it worked though; she was probably just glaring at the Mitchie-shaped mound in the bedclothes instead.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. I'd gotten off the bus, managed to beg Caitlin into letting me borrow some money to pay the driver (he'd been really supportive and let me pay at the end of my journey... which I had. With Cait's money) and then driven home from Boston in silence. Well... my best friend kept asking me questions, but I couldn't tell her what had happened. I couldn't tell anyone what had happened. Nobody would understand my point of view, I was sure of it. They'd tell me I was stupid and that I should have let him explain and that I shouldn't have just run away. And the tragic thing was, I would've agreed with them. Deep down, I would've totally agreed with them. Because on that journey home I had a lot of time to think and I'd come to the conclusion that I'd been wrong. I'd yelled and thrown a fit at him... but I was the one who hadn't let him explain, right?

Then again, he was the one that kissed another girl.

My mom and dad had tried to get me to speak – when I finally got back to the house at gone two in the morning and they'd tried to talk to me about why I'd decided to come home – but I'd put up a mean resistance. My guard hadn't broken at all. And I'd gone up to my room almost immediately, burying myself in my covers and crying until I had no tears left. And when that came and went, I resorted to just staring at the ceiling, thinking it all through. As much as it hurt, it was all I could do.

Now, it was mid-afternoon the next day, my mom and dad had tried and failed to get me to leave my room, and they'd sent in the cavalry. The cavalry being my best friend Caitlin, who took no prisoners when it came to getting her own way.

"I understand that Mitchie, but all of us want to help! We don't know what happened. And yes, when I say we, I do mean me and Nate because we've been talking all morning about what the hell has happened to our two best friends who, up until last night, were blissfully happy and about to tell each other that they liked each other." Caitlin said, and I could see the look on her face. It was not amused. "So you can either spill, or we'll find a way to make Shane spill."

Shane.

I couldn't help myself; I still cared about him. You can't just stop yourself caring about someone. It doesn't happen overnight. But I didn't remove the covers from over my head as I asked the question that had immediately sprung to mind. "How is he?"

The bed moved slightly as Caitlin sat down on the end of it, presumably facing in my direction, and she heaved a sigh. "You really want to know?"

Immediately I had this vision of Shane Grey, partying it up with random girls he'd picked up off the street, having fun, not caring about the girl whose heart he'd stolen and then ripped apart. As unlikely as it might have been, it was possible that me leaving had been what he'd wanted. It was possible. "No," I said, weakly and shaking my head. It must have looked odd – me shaking my head and causing the covers to shake along with it – but Caitlin didn't laugh.

I did want to know. Part of me did. Part of me thought that he was sitting on the tour bus like I was sitting here at home; drowning in my own misery. Or... in his own misery. Part of me wanted to hear it said out loud so that I could know that I'd made a mistake. That I'd screwed it up just as much as he had. That we were both in the wrong. But then there was the other part that was eating away at the rational side of my brain. The other part that was convincing me that he thought he was better off and that he was glad that I was gone.

"Mitchie... why did you run away?"

The words left Caitlin's mouth softly, as though she were trying to persuade a two-year-old to answer the question. But I wasn't a two-year-old. I was eighteen. I was eighteen and I was lying in bed like a broken mess over someone I'd really only met a few weeks ago. I tried to do the math in my head. One week and five days. Holy crap, was that all it was? One week and six days ago, I had no idea that I was even going to a Connect 3 concert, let alone going on tour with them. One week and six days ago, I was just plain old Mitchie Torres. Now I was...

Who was I kidding? I hadn't changed. I was still plain old Mitchie Torres. More people knew me. More people thought they knew me. But I hadn't changed at all. And this realization made me all the more upset. After all that, what did I have to show for it? A broken heart and a couple of paparazzi shots all over the internet about me. Well that was useful.

"Mitchie..."

Pulling the covers from off my head in one swift motion, I didn't even take a moment to consider the fact that this movement had totally messed up my hair in the process. "I ran away because I had to, okay? I ran away because I had to!"

She was looking at me with an expression of such sympathy, that it hurt. I didn't want sympathy. "I DON'T WANT SYMPATHY!" I cried, feeling the tears prick in my eyes. "I don't want you guys worrying about me, because it's my fault I'm in this mess. I fell for the jerk. I ran away from him when he was trying to explain. I went to that stupid concert in the first place! I caved. You begged me to go to the stupid concert, and I caved in! Argh!"

Dropping my head in my hands, I dug my nails into the skin on my forehead, feeling them leave their imprints. It didn't hurt so much as remind me to feel. After crying all night and feeling totally numb with stupidity and hurt, I needed reminding that I could still feel physically.

"Mitchie, you can still fix this."

I shook my head, not looking at her. "No. No. He said nothing. When I told him I liked him, he said nothing. How can I go back there, knowing that he doesn't feel the way that I feel about him? Plus, he hasn't tried to get in touch with me since last night. Maybe he doesn't want me to - "

"That's bull, Mitchie, and you know it. He wants you to. After everything you guys have been through, how could he not want it?"

My head was still shaking, my eyes were still closed. "He wants Summer, Caitlin. Last night, after I told him how I felt, I walked in on him and Summer. They were kissing and... I don't know. I told him that I'd written a song about him and he just... he went and kissed someone else? Don't tell me that you wouldn't have run at that."

Caitlin opened her mouth to reply, but I carried on before she could. She wanted to know the whole story? Well that's what she'd get.

"I ran and he came after me. And I was angry and hurt and I said the first thing that came to my head, which was wrong. I can't even... remember everything I said to him, but most of it was just in the heat of the moment. But he didn't... he didn't even try to tell me he liked me back. He just... stood there. And I couldn't take it. When that photographer guy popped up and started asking questions and Shane wasn't answering and he wasn't... explaining... I just couldn't take it. And so ran. But it was the right thing to do, Caitlin. It was the right thing to do. Because it wouldn't have been the same. I wouldn't have been able to stay on the bus. So don't tell me I should have stayed and that I can fix things because I can't."

I don't even know if I was making sense. All I knew was that I was hurting. I was hurting and that had started thanks to a certain Shane Grey. If I'd thought about it – really, really thought about it – I might have worked out that it was myself to blame. But I didn't want to. It's always easier to blame someone else. You can avoid other people if they've hurt you. You can't ever avoid yourself.

"Yes. You can. If you want to fix it, you - "

"Maybe I don't want to, Cait!" I yelled, looking away from her and around the room that seemed to unfamiliar. Even though I'd barely been gone, it was like I hadn't been here for years. "Maybe this is what I want! Maybe you're just sticking your nose in where it isn't wanted! I don't need you here telling me how to run my life! I'm fine. I am fine. Just go away and leave me alone. Call Nate or something; I'm sure he cares about what you have to say."

Not in control, would have been a good way to describe myself. I didn't know what I wanted; what I was saying. It was like in Mean Girls. Word vomit.

A flash of hurt appeared in Caitlin's eyes, before her face hardened too. Caitlin Gellar was one person you didn't mess with. She was going to tell you what she thought, no matter what. "Fine then, Mitchie. Fine. You lie here, with your covers over your head and drown out every thought that contradicts what you want to believe. Fine. Have fun. Just know that you are not the only victim here. And that if you keep going at the rate you're going – in denial and pushing away those who try to help you – then you definitely won't be the victim. Nobody will feel sorry for you."

"I didn't ask anybody to feel sorry for me." I shot back, folding my arms.

"Good. Because when you're left, all alone, with all your regrets... I wonder who'll be there. Too bad I won't be around to find out." And with that, my best friend stood up and walked over to the door, turning back for only a fraction of a second. "You know... you started off hating Shane because he had a bad attitude. Look in the mirror, Mitchie. Right now, you're acting more like the supposed Shane Grey than Shane Grey is. Talk about personality switch..."

Guilt washed over me as I took in her hurt tone of voice, and I was just about to apologize – ask her to help me – when she turned away and stepped out of my door, slamming it behind her.

"_Right now, you're acting more like the supposed Shane Grey than Shane Grey is..."_

---

There was no getting out of school on Monday morning. My mom and dad put their foot down and said that I couldn't stop my education because I'd been on a tour. Even if I did have a broken heart. So even though I'd spent four days in my bed and removed from society completely, I found myself being dropped off outside school at a ridiculously early hour (though considering the hours I'd been up until... it wasn't really) and back at square one. Only it was worse this time. Much, much worse.

Shane hadn't called. Or texted. Or made any contact whatsoever. On Saturday morning I'd given in and called his number, but was told that the number was no longer in service. Which had torn me apart that little bit more. He'd made it impossible for me to contact him then. If his number was no longer in service, I couldn't call or text. There was no way. Caitlin had said that I could fix it if I wanted to. How could I fix it if he'd taken away my only means of contacting him? He obviously didn't want me to call him. He obviously didn't want me. He obviously didn't feel the same way.

I'd caught snippets of news about me on HotTunes and heard my mom and dad having conversations about it when they didn't think I was listening. Apparently it was everywhere: Mitchie Torres – girl who had changed Shane Grey – and the rockstar himself were caught having an argument on Wednesday night in Pennsylvania. It ended with her storming off and she hasn't been since. That was the official story anyway. Whenever it came on TV though, I always flicked over. It was too much to bear.

I'd practically begged my mom and dad to let me have a day off today, but they refused. They didn't know the whole story; all they knew was that I was home, I was depressed and I needed to get out of the house. And I wasn't going to do the last thing unless I was absolutely made to. School was the perfect excuse to make me get out into the world.

It was going to suck though. I knew it would.

Whispers followed me as I took my tentative steps up to the entrance; people pointing and laughing in my direction. I saw Caitlin – whom I hadn't spoken to since our argument on Thursday – and offered her a small smile. But instead of giving one back, she turned away and carried on her conversation.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." The one voice I knew I'd be hearing at some point during the day alerted my attention and I closed my eyes slowly. Just because I'd been expecting it didn't make it hurt any less. "The attention whore, back from her tour. How was it, Mitchie? Was it super fun? Or can you see what I always saw? That Shane Grey was never after you."

Don't retaliate, I told myself. Don't give her the satisfaction of knowing that I'm dying inside. I kept walking, taking the steps outside school one at a time. People were still watching. Well I hope they were having a good show. I hope they were all having fun, watching my pain.

"Did you fall for him, Mitchie? Aww, ickle Mitchie fell in wuv wiv Shane Grey. How sweet."

God, this girl would not give up, would she?

"Oh well. At least now you're back to where you belong. The bottom of the social ladder at some deadend high school in Cohasset, Massachusetts. No false pretenses anymore. At least now you're not living a lie and just waiting to get your heart - "

The smug tone in her voice irked me. As if I wasn't already wound up enough, Rochelle had to go and twist the knife. Well no. No. Spinning around on my heel, I stopped and relished in the look of surprise on her face when she found that she was no longer talking to the back of my head. Not expecting that one.

"Shut. Up. Just because he didn't and wouldn't ever want you, doesn't mean that you have any right to make other people feel bad. Okay? So just shut up."

I didn't wait for any other reaction; just turned around and walked the rest of the way into school as fast as I could. Escaping the whispering and the pointing. Escaping it all.

Except... this time, there'd be no phone call from Shane to make it all better. There'd be no light at the end of the day by way of a text or hearing his laugh on the other line. There wasn't even my best friend by my side to make some funny comment about how stupid Rochelle was and make me feel better instantly. I was alone this time around. And there was nothing I could do about it.

It was my fault. How could I complain? It was my fault things were broken.

And it was my fault that I didn't know how to fix it too. It was my fault.


	26. Write You A Song

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ Okay so, PLEASE READ THIS (though I'm sure most of you do anyway) BUT IT'S IMPORTANT. Last week I had this AMAZING conversation with __Smitchie-Shipper__ (who I thank from the bottom of my heart because even though I loved my idea to end this story, I adore the one that we talked about and hammered out and decided on) and I've completely changed the ending to the story. Which brings both good and bad news for you all. The good news is that there WILL BE A SEQUEL. For sure. I cannot leave you guys like I will leave you (whoa, major plot giveaway... not that you'll be waiting too long to find out) and so absolutely 100 percent sequel. The bad news... well, you'll find out the bad news when I put the next (and final) chapter up. I am HOPING to have it done by tomorrow, when I go to my aunts and lose my internet connection until Monday, but if I don't, then just know that the last chapter will be up before New Year, I promise. The other thing I wanted to say was that I'm sorry for making this announcement (yeah, you'll find out Mitchie's announcement at the end) so sudden. If I'd known that __Smitchie-Shipper__ was going to blow my mind with her idea, then I'd have put it in the chapter before this, to make it a little less sudden, but unfortunately I'm not a psychic, so I didn't know. That's why this is so sudden and I'm sorry about that. I've tried to make it as believable as possible, but... yeah. And if you decide to look up the song that I pretended Shane wrote, then it's by Busted and it's called Without You. Pretend he's just playing the guitar part – ignore the piano. Hope you like it._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I'm not psychic, I don't own the song 'Without You' by Busted and I don't own Camp Rock. Wow, I suck._

_**Music: **__Write You A Song – Plain White Ts_

"**I will write you a song, that's how you'll know that my love is still strong"**

It was hard to tell whether the days were blurring because they were going by so fast or because they were going by so slow. Weird? Yes. I'd obviously not only lost my sense of feeling, but my sense of time too. Not that I cared all that much. Who needed to feel? Who needed to know how much time had elapsed? I didn't. It wasn't that important.

Five days. I'd last seen, spoken to, touched, listened to, heard, felt, smiled at... I'd last _been_ smiled at by Mitchie five days ago. And the days that had elapsed had almost killed me. I couldn't call her because my phone was lying where I'd thrown it. Still. I couldn't see her because we were in different states. And from what I heard when I was pretending to sleep and Nate was on the phone with Caitlin, she didn't want to see me. She didn't want to see anybody.

"You're kidding me." Nate's voice wafted in from the next room.

I was lying on the couch, which I still used as my bed. It hurt too much to be in the other room, surrounded by Mitchie's things and shrouded in a bed that smelt like her. Not that I'd have slept anyway. I rarely did. The number of times Jason had told me I looked like an extra in the Thriller video was almost into triple figures and oddly enough, I couldn't give a toss. I didn't need to feel. I didn't need to be aware of time passing. And I didn't need to look alive. Barely needed food. I was surviving.

"But she can't!"

Eavesdropping on Nate's conversations were easier than he'd have liked, I knew it. He was easily convinced that I was asleep, and so I was able to listen whenever.

"You have to stop her then!"

I let my eyes close. Sure, I wanted to know what was going on. Of course I did. But it was pointless asking. If anybody wanted me to know, they would've told me. Not Nate. Plus, the one thing I cared about was God knows where doing God knows what and everything else paled in comparison. It was too hard to get her face out of my mind to concentrate on anything else. It probably wasn't even anything to do with Mitchie anyway...

"Thursday morning? But... we can't. Last show on Wednesday night. We'd never... Can't you do anything?" Even in my broken state I could hear how desperate he was. If only I knew what was going on. "I'm aware of that Caitlin, but..."

Caitlin? Which meant... Mitchie. What was going on with Mitchie? Caitlin had to stop Mitchie doing something? On Thursday morning? I sat bolt upright, not caring that Jason now knew I'd been listening to everything (though he'd probably guessed as much anyway) and looked over to the door that acted as a barrier between me and the conversation going on in Nate's room. The door that kept the secret from me.

"Shane?" Jason said, his eyebrows raised and his guitar perched on his knee as he got ready to start practicing. "What's the matter?"

I shook my head, turning to him and shrugging. He knew what the matter was. He'd know the secret way before I would. Nate would come back in after he'd hung up and send Jason a knowing look. Later, they'd find themselves alone to have a brief conversation about whatever Caitlin had told him. It was how it would work. Shane Grey, kept out of the loop. Whether he wanted to be or not. I suppose I deserved it. I'd been such a stupid bastard. And now I was paying the price.

"I don't know, Cait. He's not good. The last few shows have been terrible. He needs her..." Nate. He was still on my side. Before I'd met her, would he have been? Would he have believed me when I said that I hadn't kissed her at all? Would he have been on the phone, defending me?

I didn't really want to think about it. Pushing myself up off the couch, I grabbed my guitar and avoided eye contact with Jason, who I could feel was still looking at me. Then I twisted the handle of the door to the room I hadn't been in for five days, and took a deep breath.

Stepping into the room was like a fresh dose of hurt. But I needed it. I needed to be reminded of it so that I knew how real she was. I'd woken up on the Thursday morning, doubting whether it had been real at all. Doubting the fact that I'd even met a girl as amazing as Mitchie Torres in the first place. But she had been real; the ache in my body told me that one. And I needed to keep feeling it. I needed it to not have been a dream. Because that was all that was keeping me from becoming that jerk Shane Grey again.

"He still loves her, Caitlin. And love might be a strong word, but I... can't think of a better way to describe it. We've surpassed like and it's... how is she?"

How is she? It was the question I wanted to ask him whenever he finished his conversations. But I never did. Just in case the answer was: "Great! She's amazing. She's got a new boyfriend and an A in her English test and she's forgotten all about you!"

How is she?

The question rung in my ears, like he'd said it over and over. But he hadn't. Once. Once was enough.

Slamming the door behind me, I cut Nate off and sat down with my guitar. Drown out the words and the thoughts and the scent and the whole world with music.

It's what Mitchie would've done.

---

"Last show!" Jeff banged on the door of the dressing room that all three of us had opted to share and reminded us for what must have been the 50th time that evening. Only this time it was almost time to go on. And I didn't think I could do it.

Mitchie was supposed to be here. Standing in the wings at Madison Square Garden and listening and making me smile and... instead she was back home in Massachusetts. And exactly one week ago, I'd forced her to go back there. I'd screwed it up. I'd been a jerk. I'd...

I couldn't do it.

"Shane..." Nate came up behind me as I attempted to stare myself down in the mirror. It wasn't really working out for me. "Shane, can I talk to you? Can we talk to you?"

I looked around at them both – Nate and Jason – and nodded, mutely. So few words had been spoken between us in the past few days, but oddly enough it hadn't torn us apart any. Before, when I'd been the egotistical Shane Grey that I thought I was rid of (and despite what Mitchie had said... I still kinda thought I was rid of him) not saying anything was the killer. But now... it was like we didn't need to speak.

"We just want you to..."

Jason stood up, walking over to me. "She might be here, Shane. Who knows? Maybe you should..."

"Maybe I should, what?" I stood up, unable to entertain the possibility that she was here. She wouldn't be here. She hated me. "Maybe I should pretend everything is okay? I'm done with this, guys. I'm done with it. She was the only reason that I could put up with this record deal and this... this whole charade that we're a part of. You guys have to see what they're doing. You _have_ to be able to see that this is just a game to them. And yet, you're going along with it. You're better than this, guys. And maybe our fans won't like it and maybe we'll destroy our fanbase... but at least we'll be being true to us."

They just looked at me. Expecting a conversation about Mitchie, and getting one about the stupidity of the fame that we were gaining, obviously. Nate had a weird look in his eyes, but I didn't really dwell on it.

"Come on! Are you seriously telling me that you like what they've done? Nate – you were always telling me to talk these things through with you. I'm talking. I'm talking and I'm talking and I want you to understand that this is not all that we can be. Mitchie said that. Mitchie believed in us." The first time I'd uttered her name aloud since she'd gone had some effect, and Nate sprung into action, looking at me oddly. Like he knew something I didn't. Which, considering that he was Nate and smarter than me and had been having a lot more contact with her best friend than I had... was probably right.

"Shane..."

I shook my head, backing away from him. "No. Don't even say it. I can't perform tonight. I can't do it. Not anymore. I can't pretend."

"Shane..." Jason repeated my name, just like Nate had, though I wasn't sure whether it was because he had anything to say or whether he just wanted to contribute to the conversation.

"So... have fun tonight, guys." I said, getting dangerously close to the door. I could walk out now and be gone forever.

Nate was faster than he'd ever been before, obstructing the door before I could even reach out my hand to grip the handle. "Shane, listen to me. Listen to us."

Upon seeing my sincere expression, he continued.

"You're right. You've always been right. Okay? Me and Jason were talking about it earlier and we've seen what they've done to you. To all of us. And we both decided that..." He looked over at Jason. "You can tell him."

Jason shook his head. "No, no, no. You can tell him. You're better with making things sound cool and dramatic."

Nate rolled his eyes, but turned back to me anyway, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "We're not going to be puppets, anymore. Here's the new set list. The rest of the band know. Jeff and the record executives and _the_ fans don't... but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I looked from Nate to Jason and back again, taking it all in. This was what I'd always wanted. I'd wanted this to happen for so long. So why was I not so much happier about it? Why was I still wishing that there was an extra presence in this room, grinning at me and making everything seem a hundred times better?

"Thanks, guys..." I said finally, grinning at them both.

Jason shrugged. "Dude. We all wanted it. It just took us a while to get around to actually sorting ourselves out."

I looked down at the list in my hands. _Hello Beautiful. Goodnight and Goodbye. Got Me Going Crazy..._All songs I'd written – or had a hand in writing – when Mitchie had been around. God, she'd had more of an impact upon Connect 3 than anybody would have realized.

But there seemed to be something missing. Not that either of them would have known – they hadn't even heard the song yet. But it seemed right. It seemed as though I should sing it and pray that she heard it and pray that it made everything right.

It was worth a try anyway.

"Can I make one little request? If you guys don't mind..."

---

Jeff was furious. The fans were slightly confused but still crazy enough to flaunt their banners and t-shirts. The record executives who had come along to see their prodigies in action were yelling from backstage. But we didn't care. And that was the best part. Finally – after so freaking long – I was on stage doing something I loved and something I believed in.

If only it was perfect.

I grabbed the microphone as soon as we'd wrapped up one the only ones of our more well known songs that were as we'd written them and screamed into it. "That's it for tonight guys! No encore, sadly, because I know our record label is going to kill us as soon as we all leave this stage. But while Nate and Jason go face the music – sorry guys – I have one last song."

While I grabbed a guitar and listened to the crazy screaming of both the fans and the executives (who were almost as wild as the girls in the front row, I tell you) Nate and Jason were running off stage and explaining. Not that it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered. We'd done it. The record label couldn't change that. We'd sung and performed our own stuff and we'd liked it. No going back.

"Okay guys," I said, walking back over to the mic and speaking into it as I put the guitar strap over one shoulder and standing on the stage. Solo. This was me; raw and unrehearsed and about to bear my soul to everyone in the world. The cameras that were recording, the people that were spectating... say hello to the Shane Grey you've never met. The Shane Grey that you never expected. "This song was written by me two days ago. And I'm sure you'll all get it. I can barely keep my life out of the news these days – though I damn well wish I could sometimes – and so I think the whole world knows. Hopefully the whole world will know about this song once I've finished singing. Hopefully the one person I wrote it for will know about this song. I'm sorry, Mitchie. I'm sorry."

I caught a glimpse of Nate spinning around – forgetting the people he owed an explanation to (or not, in my opinion) and looking at me instead – a strange expression on his face again. But I couldn't think about him. I couldn't think about what he was looking like that for. I could only think about the music and the girl who'd brought that back for me. The chords and the inspiration.

"_The way you always made me look at you_

_With all the simple things you said_

_The way so many things surrounded you_

_And all the tears it seemed to make_

_And now I'm falling_

_There's nothing left to say_

_And I can't break free_

_Out from in me there_

_And I can't breathe without you_

_I can't breathe without you_

_I can't breathe without you_

_Without you, without you, without you"_

From somewhere behind me, the drummer picked up a beat. I could hear it in the back of my mind, like it was a sound in the distance. Which, I thought, was how music should be. When you're playing it or absorbing it... nothing else matters. Like Mitchie had said, on the first night I met her. _Music is universal. You can go to a concert with a thousand strangers, but in those minutes, where you're all singing the same words, you feel like you know them. I'm not an outgoing person, not usually, but when it's me and a piano... nothing else matters._

Nothing else did matter. It was like I was a whole new person. And I liked it. I liked being the guy who let in music as opposed to the guy who let out anger.

"_The way I thought I'd never leave this place_

_The way you made it seem so real_

_Cause you have faith and you had empathy_

_And all I needed was this_

_And now we're falling_

_Got nothing left to say?_

_And I can't break free_

_Out from in me there_

_And I can't breathe without you_

_I can't breathe without you_

_I can't breathe without you_

_Without you, without you, without you."_

The sounds of the rest of the world were slowly fading back in as I approached the end of the song – fans still screaming, record producers... record producers oddly quiet, actually.

The cameras were on me, probably zooming as I traced my fingers across the fretboard and fingered out the melody. Zooming to get a very attractive view of my tired face. I just hoped that wherever they were broadcasting to... Mitchie was watching. Please. If there was any justice in the world at all, Mitchie would be watching.

_How can I let you leave this way?_

_Without you I'm not at all_

_And I see things now in these memories_

_Just to see you_

_Again_

Suddenly the rest of the world was back to normal; the screaming was back to it's amazingly loud decibels, the buzz was still in the arena and there were still some very angry people waiting for me on the sidelines. Glancing over at Nate, I saw him shrugging off conversation with Jeff and the other record label people and speaking urgently into his cell phone. My nose wrinkled as I watched him, but seconds later I was reminded that I was still on stage. Duh.

I pulled the microphone towards me and grinned out at the crowd. "So that's it, guys. Thanks for being here. Thanks for giving the material that we wrote as much support as you give the stuff that we're made to sing. You guys just might be seeing a brand new Connect 3 from now on. You guys have been awesome, thank you! Thank you..." Dropping the mic without a second thought, I was off the stage before the echo of the thud that it made had finished reverberating around the hall.

"Shane! That song..." Jason caught me first, a childish grin on his face. "Mitchie will love it! You know she was trying to write a song about you, don't you?"

I smiled at him; it was too easy to get caught up in Jason's excitement now. "You think she was watching?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I bet she was."

"Shane..." Nate approached me, hesitantly.

Something was wrong.

I could see it in his eyes. Nate has always been the composed one. The more rational one. But he gives himself away easier than he'd want to. His eyes always speak for him when there's something wrong, and right now they're screaming. Much like Jeff, who is ranting and raving at me from afar.

"Shane, I need to tell you something..." Nate began again, meeting my gaze for a second before he tore his eyes away. "It's not going to be... easy. You're not going to..."

She has a boyfriend.

She got an A in English.

She's forgotten all about me.

"I was speaking to Caitlin, on Monday. Apparently... some things went down at the school. That horrible girl started on Mi..." Nate seemed hesitant to use her name. "That horrible girl started on her and she and Caitlin had had an argument and... well, her mom had been offered a new job. And when Mit... she got home in such a state on Monday afternoon..."

What? _What?__What?_

"What are you trying to say, Nate?"

Jason looked just as confused as I did (though that didn't necessarily mean he hadn't been informed of whatever was happening, because knowing Jason he could've forgotten very easily...) as Nate sighed and looked down at his feet.

"She's moving away, Shane."

Silence.

Funny, how everything around you can be so freaking loud, but that one piece of news can block out all the roaring (Jeff) and screaming (fans) and buzzing (general hype of being offstage) that is pounding through your head and leave you with nothing but your increasingly fast heartbeat to listen to.

"She's... what?"

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

"Her mom got offered a job in London, Shane. Something about a restaurateur wanting to open something there and he knows her and wants to give her the job as head chef. And they weren't going to say yes. But after everything... Mitchie wanted to say yes. And so they did." He looked up from his feet, sympathy in his eyes. "She's moving to London. Tomorrow morning."

I never knew the meaning of the phrase 'world crashing down' until right then. I mean, I understood it, but it never felt real. How could anything be so bad that somebodies whole world crashed down?

This was that bad.

But I couldn't just stand here and let it happen. My heart was telling me that much. There was no way on this earth that I was going to just let her go. Let her go and possibly never see her again. No. Way.

"I have to go - " I began, already backing away. Who cared about the record executives that were still yelling at my manager? Who cared about the fact that stepping outside would both be stepping into a media frenzy and into a fangirl stampede? I didn't. There was only one thing to care about, as far as I was concerned, and that thing was getting on a plane to London the next day.

Nate shook his head, pulling me in the opposite direction – towards the back door. "Already taken care of. I called ahead. Big Rob is waiting out here to drive you to the airport. There's a private plane being fuelled up as we speak, ready to take you to Massachusetts."

I looked at him in surprise.

"Hey," he shrugged, catching my expression. "You've made worse demands. And I had a good reason."

He had a point.

Pulling open the back door, I was surprised to find it almost a paparazzi free zone (one or two had sneaked in for a picture opportunity) and equally surprised to find an old Hummer, engine revving, waiting for me to climb inside.

"Get in," Nate said, pulling open the passenger door and closing it almost as soon as I'd lifted my leg clear of the door. "You should get there at midnight or something. Please don't go visiting her as soon as you've landed: get some sleep first. I'm going to call Caitlin and tell her you're there, but Cait is driving her to the airport at 9am so..."

I raised an eyebrow at him from my open window. "Cait, huh?"

To my satisfaction, he blushed slightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut up, Shane."

"Hey! I was just saying..." I held my hands up in defence, before quitting the joker act and smiling in a less teasing way at him. "Thanks, Nate."

He shook his head at me. "No problem. Just... don't get your hopes up too high, okay? There's a very slim chance that they'll cancel the move for you. I just... I don't want you wondering 'what if'."

There's a very slim chance. I know that. I nodded at him, glancing over at Jason, who had joined us, though I'm not entirely sure he knew what was going on. "Very slim chance means that there's a possibility. I have to take the chance, otherwise I'll never know."

"Exactly," Jason nodded, contributing enough to the conversation to let me know that he wasn't as stupid as I gave him credit for.

I couldn't think of anything else to say – and I didn't really have much time to do so – and so with one last thank you, I turned to our bodyguard and let him know that I was ready to go.

Ready to take a chance, however small it might be.

"Good luck Shane!" Jason cried as we pulled away.

Good luck.

I think I was gonna need all the luck I could get.


	27. Open Your Eyes And Believe In Me

_**Title:**__ Believe In Me_

_**Summary:**__ AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like._

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others._

_**Authors Note:**__ MERRY CHRISTMAS! I begged my aunt for use of her computer just to upload this for you guys, so I hope you like it (in a bittersweet way). But okay: stats time. I've been 'officially' writing this fic for 81 days, including 27 chapters of Smitchie love and angst, 117,355 words (can you say whoa? I did) and 564 reviews (totally another 'whoa'ing matter). 30,162 hits, 124 favorites, 214 alerts and 2 C2s. Can anybody say totally awesome, because that's how I felt when I checked all of these statistics out. So, while I know that you guys probably just want to read the last installment, I want to take a few words to say what I've been saying the whole way through, for the last time. Thank you guys so, so much. You've taken me above and beyond what I could have ever hoped for, and for all your amazing feedback and critique to help me test myself and make my writing better I truly, truly think you rock. I hope you like this last chapter as much as I liked writing it. It almost broke my heart when I wrote the final few words. The response you've given me has spurred me to keep going; it's been overwhelming and I want to thank each and every one of you. IF I FAIL MY EXAMS ITS YOUR FAULTS FOR MAKING ME WANT TO UPDATE SO FREAKING MUCH! Only kidding. Kinda. But regardless, you're amazing and I would thank everyone individually if I didn't know you all want me to shut up and get on with the chapter. This story has been... ahh, so brilliant to write. The sequel is sure to be just as amazing – I can feel it – and will be up in the New Year. If I sketch out all the details in time, maybe on the 1__st__ of January, just to really ring in the New Year properly. But no promises. You'll hear from me again soon though! But okay, whatever. So as I said in the last Author's Note, I changed my whole idea after a conversation with the amazing __Smitchie-Shipper__ who provided me with these ideas and talked me through what could happen and it's not the happiest of endings, but hey: it means you guys DEFINITELY get a sequel which is way exciting for me. So. Here goes. Can we get a drumroll please? Kind, amazing, awesome, kickass reviewers... I present to you all (with my fingers and toes and eyes and everything else crossed in the hope that you don't think it sucks)... the very last chapter - and the one WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR GODDAMN IT - of Believe In Me, complete with the chapter title based on the song that started me writing it all anyway. Now if you'll excuse me while I go sob and change the status from 'in-progress' to 'complete'._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I think, after 27 chapters, we're all aware that Camp Rock isn't mine..._

_**Music: **__Believe In Me – Rooney_

"_**If you believe in fate, in destiny, well then open your eyes and believe in me"**_

A new start.

That's what I wanted. I wanted a new beginning in a new country where practically nobody would know who I was and where I could just... start over. No Rochelles, no Summers, no Shane Greys. It was what was best. My mom and dad had agreed. And London seemed a hell of a long way away from Massachusetts and the United States.

Caitlin had come over on Tuesday night and we'd made up properly. I'd told her I was leaving as soon as I found out by way of a text, but I think we both knew there was no way we'd ever be able to part on such horrible terms. If she hadn't come over, I would've had to go over there. And now it was Thursday morning and I'd just made the last, cliché walkthrough of my shell of a house. Everything we didn't want to take with us was left for the new buyers to decide the fate of. And everything we did want was either shipped off to storage or it was put on a ship to take to our new home in London, which had come with the job. We were taking clothes and essentials with us, like we were going on a vacation. Except it wasn't a vacation. This was a move. It was real. And it was exactly what I needed.

A knock at the door alerted my attention. That was odd. Everyone had been informed that we were moving and so nobody would be visiting. And Caitlin, who was picking me up to take me to the airport (my parents had taken most of the luggage and gone last night to visit my cousins before we left the country; I'd opted out of that one... they'd just grill me about Shane anyway) would just walk in. So who was knocking at my door?

Tracing my steps through the house – listening to my footsteps echo around the room as I walked across the hardwood floor – I opened the front door and saw an unfamiliar guy in a delivery uniform standing there.

"Hello?" I asked, my nose wrinkling and I dropped my rucksack on the ground outside the front door to speak to him without my hands fully. We hadn't ordered anything. Why would we have ordered anything? Though... we did only decide we were moving four days ago... so maybe Mom ordered something before then? But why wouldn't she mention it?

"Michaela Torres?" The guy read from the clipboard he had in front of him, lifting his eyes to scan my face as I nodded, still confused. Then he pulled a thin parcel from under his arm and handed it to me. "This is for you. Have a nice day."

Turning away, he went back to the van that was parked outside my driveway and didn't look back, leaving me with the parcel in my hands and with no clue what it was. Not that I had to wait long to find out, because I was tearing the paper off within seconds.

I froze when I saw the picture on the cover staring back up at me, ignoring the letter that slipped out of my grasp and fluttered to the floor as I stared, transfixed at the image in front of me. Me, on Shane's back, grinning at the camera. He had a smile playing on his lips as he looked sideways at Nate, who had his hands up to his face in laughter. Jason was mid-laugh, his straight hair over his face and his eyes alight with the look of someone who had just understood a joke. Which, as I remembered, he had.

It was the picture that I'd known I'd adore so much and I did adore it. It was perfect; a perfect moment captured in time. But it didn't look like me. The girl who looked so carefree and wild and happy... she didn't look like me at all. Yet it had been. Only a week and two days ago, that was me.

Bending down and tearing my eyes away from the magazine cover, I scrabbled to pick up the letter that had come with it, letting my eyes scan over those words first.

_Mitchie,_

_I hope this gets to you in one piece and that you like it. I had the designers work overtime to get this rough copy for you guys, because it was so lovely... And then I heard about what happened between you and Shane and so knew it was best to send you your own copy, just in case you never got to see the one I sent the boys._

_It's none of my business, I know, but this interview was truly one of the best I've done. The interview and the photoshoot were both so real and vivid and honestly? I don't think that was because of Connect 3. I think that was because of you. You were able to give us the view on how normal teenagers see them and you were able to show them that sometimes they don't have to act like professional musicians. Sometimes they can just be kids._

_However you are, whatever has happened since we last saw each other, whatever happens when you've read this letter... I wish you all the best, Mitchie. And I sincerely hope that it isn't the last we've heard of you._

_Enjoy this and if you need any other copies for relatives, don't hesitate to drop me an email and I'll get them to you as soon as possible._

_Monica Watkins_

I sighed, closing the front door behind me and sitting down against it, putting the magazine on my lap. The picture on the front cover still held most of my attention, but I was able to take in the headline and the other stories too. _That's Just The Way They Roll! Meet the real Connect 3 and the girl who brought it out of them. _

My finger absent-mindedly drew circles around the one member of Connect 3 I missed the most, and I could feel the familiar stabbing pain I felt whenever I thought about him. Shane had been out of my life for merely a week and yet... it felt so much longer. And I'd known him for literally 19 days. But it felt like I'd known him for my whole life.

Not for the first time, I wondered why I was doing this. Why was I moving to a whole new country? Why was I leaving him? Why?

And again, not for the first time, I told myself that I had to. I did. This was a new start for me. It was an amazing opportunity for my mom. And even if Shane did come back and did still want me, how could I cope? I would still have to go to high school and deal with the bitchy girls. I'd still have the media scrutinizing my every move. I'd still have periods of not seeing him or not seeing my family, because I'd either have to go on tour with him or let him go on tour without me. It wouldn't work. It couldn't work.

Flipping the cover open, I found the page I wanted and was greeted with a blown up picture of the three boys, the same headline as on the magazine cover under it. Beside the large block of text that was the interview was yet another picture of me and Shane; he was tickling me, his head thrown back in a laugh as I faced him and tried to get away, my face fighting to keep serious but evidently failing. My eyes were still sparkling as I watched him. Next to this one – it was like a film reel of me and Shane's photos – was the shot that had been snapped when neither of us had been expecting it. He was looking down at me, pleading me to have my picture taken and I was trying to resist, an adoring smirk on my face. And pasted next to this was one where he was spinning me around in his arms, my legs kicking as I tried to get free and him just not caring.

I forced myself to tear my eyes away from the pictures and focus on the text. The text might hurt less.

_We all know Connect 3. You can't really not know these three boys (or is it men now?) in this country. Their 'Up Close and Personal' tour sold out, their recent album passed the million mark in what seemed like no time at all and frontman Shane Grey is rarely off HotTunes with tales of his antics and behaviour. But do we know them as well as we think? Or as well as we'd like? We caught up with them all, with only a few dates left on their tour, and asked the questions that we've been dying to know the answers to since recent events: How are they liking being closer to fans? What can we expect next? And who is this girl that Shane's been seen with and has he really changed as much as people are saying?_

Nope. Not helping. Not helping at all.

My eyes flickered down the page, taking in various words and phrases. My name caught my eye, like it always does when you see your own name on a piece of paper. You want to read what they have to say about you.

_Mitchie Torres recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday on tour with the guys, comes from Cohasset, Massachusetts where the boys recently played and insists that her favourite thing to do is still sitting on her roof and playing her guitar, despite having been on the road with Connect 3 for the past week. After telling off a member of the paparazzi, Mitchie has been a hot topic in the industry – especially as she's rumoured to be the one who changed Shane Grey from the "jerk" we know into the nice guy he is now (he even gave up his bed for Mitchie to sleep on the tourbus!)._

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to give myself a second to prepare myself for whatever else might be in the article. I could barely remember what I'd said. But whatever it was, I'm sure it was complimentary and fun and happy. Because that's what I was.

"_I do have faith in him. And I think... that's what everyone else lost. I mean, I can't be sure, but I think that after putting up with it for as long as Nate and Jason have, they just... they didn't think he ever would change. They didn't believe that he would. And if nobody else believes in you, then it's really hard to believe in yourself. It's hard to believe in yourself even if a million other people believe in you, so it must suck if it feels like nobody does."_

"Mitchie!" A cry from outside alerted my attention and stopped me reading further. It was the voice that I knew I recognised and this time I could put a face to it. This time I knew instantly who it was. But it couldn't be... he was in New York. Probably partying it up to celebrate the end of the tour that had changed so much and so little at the same time. "Mitchie!"

I stood up, picking up the magazine and wrenching open the front door in a swift motion. Whoever it was – whether it was my mind playing tricks on me or not – they were outside right now and I had nothing else to do while waiting for Caitlin to show up.

Nobody was there.

My gaze scanned the entire area around the front of my house and there was nobody. Where were they? Where was he? Was I going crazy and imagining voices now?

"Mitchie! Hear me out, please!"

No freaking way.

Slowly, I rotated on the balls of my feet and looked up at my house. Up at my roof. Up at my roof which was currently being stood on by a certain popstar. A certain popstar that still had the ability to make my heart skip a beat and who I never expected to see again, let alone right now. I couldn't even speak for a few seconds. Shane Grey was on my roof. What. The. Hell.

"You have to listen to me, Mitchie. I'm going crazy and not in a good way. Not in the way that I was going crazy when I first met you. I don't want to be without you. I can't - "

I noticed the ladder that was leaning up against the wall, wondering how I hadn't heard that one being put up. "How... where did you steal the ladder from?"

Shane laughed, his eyes crinkling up in the corners as he looked down at me. It was like deja vu. This was how we first met – except he was on the ground and I was on the roof. And I felt considerably better about the situation back then. "So typical Mitchie. Worrying about the ladder when the real question is something completely different."

A car pulling up behind me attracted my attention and I turned around to see Caitlin, her eyes wide at the scene in front of her. Thank goodness. I could get out of here. In seconds, I'd grabbed my rucksack, which was lying where I'd dropped it, closed the door and was walking over to Caitlin's car. I couldn't have this conversation with him. Not when I was just about to leave. Not when I was leaving him behind.

"Mitchie, please listen to me. Please. I didn't kiss her. It's the oldest excuse in the book, I know, but I don't care. I didn't kiss her. But if you're determined to believe that I did, then I'll take that too. I just need you to reconsider leaving. I don't care whether you think I kissed her or not, but I do care that I didn't tell you how I felt before you left. Because I keep going over it in my mind and - "

Each word he said burned into my mind. They made sense, sure. And they weren't _bad _words. In fact, they were almost exactly what I wanted to hear. But I was leaving. It wasn't the best timing. And did they matter? Did it really matter how he felt? I couldn't do this, whatever he said. I just... I couldn't imagine being in a relationship with someone who had so much... excess. You didn't just get Shane Grey when you were dating Shane Grey. You got the fame and the media and the rumours and the bullying and the fangirls...

"Shane, please don't do this." I shook my head, hovering by the passenger door. I wasn't trying to cut him off. I wasn't trying to shoot him down. I was trying to do the right thing. For both of us.

"I have to do this, Mitchie! It's my last chance to do this! You're going to London!" Shane yelled, his hands thrown in the air and his feet precariously close to the edge of the roof.

I pulled open the door, throwing my bag in and getting ready to follow it. "Yeah! I am. And I think that it'd be best if we just let me go. Because you're just going to make it too hard for me."

He didn't seem to have anything to say to this. Good. No objections. I slid into the car, my heart thudding at an excessive rate and hardly able to believe that I was about to walk away again. I mean seriously? Was I about to walk away again without listening to him properly? My hands clasped around the magazine that I was still clutching.

"Drive, Caitlin." I instructed, as I closed the door and my eyes, trying to drown out the argument that was going down in my head.

Was I really going to leave again and lose him all over again? It had hurt so much last time; was I about to repeat the offence?

But it was the easiest way. If I heard him out, I might want to stay and I couldn't. I just... I _knew_ I couldn't. I had to go to London and start anew and find out who I am as a person. That's what I had to do. Talking it through would just make a hard thing harder.

But...

"Mitchie! If you don't come and talk to me, I'm going to jump!" His voice broke into my thoughts, and a sense of panic rose inside of me. What? _What? _No.

"Drive, Caitlin!" I cried, snapping my eyes open and glaring at my best friend, who wasn't moving. She was just watching Shane, a look on her face. Ugh. She wanted me to talk to him. She thought that that was best.

"Mitchie..." she began, turning her head slowly to look at me.

"No."

"Mitchie... I think you should - "

I shook my head. "Cait, I can't..."

Caitlin sighed. "Yes, you can. Look, you'll leave. We both know you will. But if you don't talk to him and hear him out, you'll get on that plane and you'll have no idea what could have been. He'll have no idea what could have been. And slowly you'll get bitter and he'll get bitter and nothing good will come of it. You have to hear him out, if only for your own sanity. So that when you get to London, you can know the whole story and you can feel a whole lot better in general. Because you won't have to wonder 'what if I'd listened to him?'."

"Caitlin..."

"I swear, Mitchie! Without you I can't breathe, so I might as well take a step off the roof."

Caitlin glanced back over at him and rolled her eyes. "Come on. He's desperate. He's threatening broken bones here. Because honestly, who is he kidding? The roof isn't that high."

Didn't I know it? The roof was the whole reason we'd met in the first place. Because I'd fallen off the roof, this whole thing had started. Even in my state, I managed a smile at this, nodding as I did so. She was right. Cait had been right the whole way through it. I obviously just needed to listen to her more. "Okay. Fine. But we'd better not be late for my plane."

She gave me a supportive grin as I pushed open the door and got back out of the car, dropping the magazine as I went and then catching his eye and not letting go. "What did you want to say?"

I took a look at him – a proper look at him – for the first time in a week. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was obviously not his number one priority in life and his clothes were evidently what he'd been wearing the day before. This was not the Shane Grey I knew. But, I supposed, I was probably not the Mitchie Torres he was expecting. _My _hair wasn't really my first priority. My clothes were traveling clothes and I know that I hadn't been sleeping amazingly. We had the same dishevelled appearance. And that was just so like us.

"Mitchie..." Now that he had the chance to speak, Shane seemed to be at a loss of things to say. But I knew how he felt. When it came down to the actual moment of truth, everything that had been rehearsed left your head and you were left to improvise. "I made a mistake. Not with Summer, not with tour... I made a mistake not telling you how I felt when you were standing there in the rain. It was the moment and I missed it. So I need to tell you now. Mitch, I like you. I – "

OH MY GOD.

He was so right. When someone is falling off a roof in front of you, you have this intense urge to help them, no matter how stupid it is to think that you can. And just like him, I failed miserably because the very next second Shane was lying in my driveway and I was just reaching his side, kneeling down next to him. "Shane! Are you okay? Oh my God, are you okay?"

"That hurt just a little bit," Shane said, propping himself up on one of his elbows and nursing his head with his free hand. "Ugh, ouch."

My hand found his, resting on it. We must have looked so odd to Caitlin or to any passers by; two teens in a driveway, one having just fallen off a roof. Shane Grey just fell off of my roof. I honestly never knew what to expect when he was around anymore.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared into his brown eyes. I could get lost in them, I knew that already. But I had to stop myself from getting lost in them this time. I had to.

Sitting up properly, Shane grasped my hand with both of his. He didn't even seem to care about the small bump that was now on his forehead, nor that he could have done damage to his back or his neck. It sounds presumptuous, but it seemed like all he cared about was me.

"Mitchie, I'm not okay. I need you. I need to know that I've done everything that I can to be with you. Because you... you're amazing. I should've told you all this the night you left, but I couldn't find the words. I was stupid and that was my biggest mistake. Not telling you everything. Not telling you everything as soon as I heard your song. Not telling you everything _before_ I heard your song, because I knew that I liked you as more than a friend almost as soon as I met you. Almost as soon as you told me that fall was your favorite season, I knew that I wanted it to be more than a friendship. And you just proved that to me as I got to know you. I hated every second of the past week and I needed to let you know. I don't care about anything else – the media, the fangirls, the paparazzi – screw them all; I just need you." With every word his eyes got more begging and his voice got thicker with emotion. He was genuine and I knew he was genuine and the fact that he was... it broke my heart even more.

"Shane..." My voice cracked, and I felt the tears that had sprung up in my eyes during his speech start to fall. "Shane, please..."

Shane shook his head, gripping my hand tighter with desperation. "You're going to London. You're going to go to London and forget all about me. And I can't have that. I can't live with that. I need you, Mitch and it might sound selfish but I can't let London have you."

I prised my hand from his grip, standing up. "I need to do this, Shane. I need to start over. I like you. I really do. And it's going to be harder than anything I've ever done, but I can't stay here. I'm not ready for you. I'm not ready for the kind of relationship that being with you would bring. I can't handle the media and the rumors and the bitchiness. And that kills me, because you don't intentionally bring that with you, but it comes anyway. I _know _that it isn't your fault that anyone you date will be scrutinized and pointed at. I _know _that, but I can't help it. Maybe some day I'll be ready for it, but not today. Not right now. Look at what not dating you has done to me."

My tears started flowing freely halfway through talking and I doubted he had any idea what I'd just said. But he seemed to understand, because next thing I knew, he was standing in front of me, pressing as close as he could.

"Mitchie, please don't..."

I shook my head. "Shane, I have to."

And, despite my tears and my heart protesting profusely at my decision, I knew that my head was right. I did have to go. Maybe not for forever, but for now at least. It was best for me. It was best for both of us.

He looked away from me, making a noise that was between laughter and a sound of disbelief. I could see his eyes shining more than usual though, and I knew that he was on the verge of tears too. "So you're just going to walk away? Walk away like you did before?"

"If that's what you think..." I said, trying to work out how to explain it. How could I possibly convey into words what I was feeling and why I felt that I was doing the right thing? If someone doesn't see it, then how can you make them see it? "You're wrong. I need to do this to sort myself out."

Shane stepped back, shaking his head and bitterness in his voice. "I can't believe I just... I wanted this to work. It was all I could think of. Pour out my soul and maybe she'll want me. Did you ever? Or is this moving away just convenient timing? I don't understand why you want to leave the country. God, Mitchie. Just tell me if you don't like me. There's no need to leave the continent."

His words cut into me, but I couldn't help feeling that I deserved it. This is what I'd done to him when I'd accused him of not changing and yelled at him in the rain. I had no right to cry over his words when I'd done a similar thing. But I couldn't help it. "Of course I wanted you! I did! But this whole... thing has just shown me that I'm not ready! You're ready and that's great, but I'm not and I can't help that! This move is not about you, it's about me and about an awesome opportunity for my mom."

"What am I to you then, Mitch? Nothing? Because you sure don't seem to care enough about my feelings to stay in the country."

I took a step towards him, my voice wavering as I got closer and my hand reaching out to take his in mine. "You? You're the first guy I felt like this for. You're the guy who showed me who I could be. You're... you're my pop star. You're the guy at the bottom of my driveway, telling me that I'm good at singing and not being Shane Grey for once in your life, but just being Shane. You're... my voice in the dark. You're my voice in the dark, Shane."

He was stood there, in the driveway of my near empty house, Caitlin's car behind us as she watched the scene (I wondered for a brief second what was going through her mind; oh how amazing it would be to be on the outside of this scene and not involved in the heart-breaking decisions) and looking down at me with such hurt in his eyes. Such hurt, yet flickers of understanding. He could see why I was doing what I was doing. Deep down, he could. And Shane Grey looked so amazingly beautiful in that second that I couldn't help doing what I did next, as hard as it would make leaving him.

Standing on my tiptoes, I caught his lips with my own and lifted my hands from where they were entangled in his own to link around his neck.

It was perfect in a bittersweet way.

It was a beginning of a goodbye.

It was amazing and then terrible at the exact same time.

God, why was I leaving again?

His lips moved against mine, lengthening the kiss that I wasn't even sure should have happened in the first place. Should I keep kissing him? It was going to complicate things even more, I knew it in the back of my mind, but I didn't want to stop. Because stopping would bring me that much closer to leaving and leaving was the last thing I wanted to do when he was kissing me and holding me close and oh my God...

Pulling away quickly, I snaked my hand up to touch his hair. "I like you, okay? You will always mean a hell of a lot to me."

Shane's eyes closed slowly as a weak, knowing smile spread across his lips. "But..? There's always a but."

"It's a pretty big but." I smiled at him slightly, tilting my head to one side. My lips were still tingling and I wanted nothing more than to capture his lips against mine again. The second time might be even better, if that was possible. It was like I was drunk and he was my alcohol. Which, if my mom found out, would probably be a good thing. She'd much prefer me to be addicted to Shane than addicted to drugs or alcohol.

He laughed softly, but I could tell it was forced. I could tell a lot about Shane. Including that this was killing him. And I hated that more than anything.

"I have to do this," I said. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

Shane sighed, stepping away from the closeness that we'd created. "I'm sorry too. If we'd have... told each other earlier..."

I shook my head, putting a finger on his lips to silence him. "Don't. No 'what ifs'. Just 'what's nexts'."

"And what is next?" He asked the obvious question, shrugging at me.

I shrugged back. "Maybe that's the point. We don't know. We'll have to wait and see. Just... have faith. Believe in life. Believe in fate. Believe in..."

"Someone like me," he muttered and I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to have heard. But I had heard and so I responded accurately.

"Yeah. Believe in someone like you. They might just surprise you."

"Like I surprised you?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

The silence that spread through us this time was typical of us. Except this time it was a goodbye silence. There would be only silence between us from now on. Fate had brought us together once. I couldn't imagine it doing it twice.

This thought choked me up and I knew I had to go. Now, or else I'd cry again and I'd leave him with an imprint of me, Mitchie Torres, crying my heart out. That wasn't exactly the image I wanted him to be left with.

"I'm sorry. I have to..." I motioned over my shoulder to the car, trying to use as little words as possible. The more I said, the bigger risk of me totally breaking down.

Shane didn't let me finish; leaning forward, taking my cheeks in his hands and kissing me again. Shorter. Sweeter. Even more bittersweet because this really was the end. This... this really was it.

I let him pull away this time; let him decide when to finish things between us. And he did, loosening his hold on my face and not breaking his gaze with me at all.

"Bye Mitch." He said quietly, his breath against my face.

I suppressed a sob, pulling free from his grasp and backing towards the car. "Goodbye Shane. Thank you. For... you know."

"Thank you. For believing."

There was nothing I could do apart from nod and I did so, pulling open the passenger door again. For believing. That was all I had to do. God, I hoped someone believed in him again soon. Someone who was perfect for him and not me. Because I wasn't good enough.

One last look and I slid back into the car next to Caitlin, slamming the door shut behind me with as much force as I could manage. The car shook a little, but I didn't care.

"Drive, Caitlin."

This time, she didn't hesitate. Starting the engine, I could feel her looking at me. I knew she'd heard everything and I knew she had a million questions. But I was incredibly glad she wasn't asking any of them. It was times like these that I knew that Cait was definitely my best friend. The best of best friends.

I almost couldn't bring myself to look at Shane, standing where I'd left him in the driveway. He was Shane Grey and I'd just left him standing there, with a broken heart. That would go down well with the tabloids. But as we backed out of the drive, I couldn't resist a glance. My eyes were full of tears, obstructing me of a clear view, but I heard him roar in frustration. I saw him throw his arms in the air. I could almost see him trying to decide whether to follow the car or not. And my heart disintegrated in that very second.

But I couldn't change my mind.

Because we can only go forward. We can't go back.

Going back would mean being thrown into that cruel world of slander and rumors and bitchiness and haters. It would mean I got Shane – which I wanted; God, I so wanted it – but I wasn't ready to be the object of such... criticism. I wasn't ready for that.

So going forward was the only option.

Caitlin turned, ready to gun the engine and head to the airport, but before she moved, she paused, looking over at me. We were hesitating, outside my house. Shane was in the driveway, watching intently.

"I just feel obliged to ask... are you sure you want me to go?"

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

God, I don't know.

Avoiding her eye, the magazine attracted my attention from the floor.

"_I don't know how I ever got to that point. I'm still not completely sure why and how I changed. I know it has something to do with a complete stranger who fell off her roof and got locked out of her house, which resulted in her telling me that I was an egotistical jackass. I know it has something to do with the faith that she put in me – the fact that she told me that if I wanted to, I could change my reputation."_

I had put my faith in him. Now I needed to put my faith in myself. I needed to believe in myself for once. And I wasn't going to be able to do that here.

"Mitchie? Are you sure?"

I turned my head slowly towards her, biting my lip. "Yes. Yeah. Drive. I'm sure."

Caitlin looked at me for a few seconds – trying to make sure that I wasn't just saying whatever, I'm sure, but I mean it when I said that I was sure – before she nodded too. "Okay. Alright."

She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to. Pressed down on the gas pedal and we were gone. Moving. Going. Leaving. Changing.

And maybe it wouldn't work out. Maybe it wouldn't be very good.

Maybe people in London would know who I was and I'd find it hard to fit in and I'd be going crazy over there with the accents and the places and everything. But if that happened, I could come back. I'd have tried. Because if you don't try, you don't know.

And if you don't know... well, then you don't get to experience things like what I've experienced in the past few weeks. If you don't take the free ticket that your best friend has to the Connect 3 concert, then you won't know. You don't get to meet the guy who can show you who you can be. You don't get to meet the pop star, at the bottom of your driveway, telling you that you're good at something and showing you a whole new side of him. You don't get to meet your voice in the dark.

And that wouldn't be very good at all. That would suck, believe me.


	28. Sequel Up & Thank You

**SEQUEL UP!**

So someone asked me if I could post an Author's Note when the sequel was up, and so this is what this is for! _You Make It Real – _go and check it out, tell me what you think, all that jazz. And THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for the _overwhelming _support I got for the last chapter; I love you guys so much and I love that (most of) you actually liked the bittersweet ending. And for those of you that weren't so hot on the ending – you have the sequel! Win/win! I think so. But yes, thank you, check out the sequel, love you all.

_**Charli***_


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